Dreams of Sugar Plums Dancing in her Head
by Mademoiselle Anime Amour
Summary: *Nutcracker Story*. Clara Sherman is a bored teenage girl who is disappointed by not going to see The Nutcracker near Christmas. But, a gift from her favorite uncle mixes things up a bit, adding a bit of excitement to her dull life. Set in modern day.
1. Daydreams

**A/N: Hey, guys, welcome to my Nutcracker story. In modern day. And obviously, there are tons of changes. One of which is Clara's last name not being German. I mean, I know there are some people with German descent out there, but it usually seems they have more English-sounding names. Or whatever. But, anyway, I hope you enjoy this first chapter without any further ado.**

**Disclaimer(only one): I don't own anything except my ideas.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Daydreams<strong>

Clara Sherman, bored beyond all possible relief in her last hour history class, glanced anxiously up at the clock. Little hand on the three, big hand barely on the twelve. Just four more minutes, and Christmas break would start. Finally. It felt like it had taken forever to reach this moment. And as the big hand gradually inched to the first dash past the twelve, she needed time to speed up. History class was certainly not her forte, and the fact she disliked most of the students in here didn't help matters. Looking about her and opening her ears more, Clara caught wisps of idiotic conversation over mall sales, New Year's bashes (alcohol-soaked, which she wouldn't want to go to even if she'd been invited), and general gossip.

Rolling her eyes at these supposedly intelligent morons, she returned to a sketch she doodled on a sheet of notebook paper. It was a nutcracker soldier in full regalia with fringed epaulettes, gold buttons (though uncolored), and imposing boots marching toward the onslaught of war.

Exciting times for this soldier who would incite violence on a particular mouse king maybe. She smiled contemplatively, remembering just how much she loved that ballet. Despite her apathy toward most ballets, this one held a special place in her heart. It had all started with a December sixth grade incentive trip to the closest city.

This city happened to be Portland, Oregon, located thirty minutes from where she lived in the humble town of Rosewood. Up to its theater they went, and of course, they watched a version of Tchaikovsky's masterpiece. At first, she swore she would sleep through the whole thing.

Instead, she'd been fascinated all the way through, from humble start to glorious finish. There was something about the classical music that kept her interest. She liked how it was well-suited to every scene. Even the single fight scene, though executed in that artsy, graceful way, was great fun to watch. Honestly, she could say that she was drawn to the story because of the variety...and that it appealed to her romantic sensibilities. She loved it.

Funny, how much she begged her parents to take her to go see _The __Nutcracker _a year after that. No thanks to Fred objecting, though, she couldn't. The last time she saw it was in eighth grade when her father relented, and it turned out to be only a father/daughter trip. Better to be disappointed, she guessed, than to be declined false hopes. However, she could only look back on watching the ballet with fondness.

For a finishing touch on her sketch, Clara added a hat similar to what Russian soldiers would have worn in that era. Or at least what she'd seen most nutcrackers wear. Satisfied with her work, she put her pencil away. This drawing made her realize just how badly she wanted break to start.

Sure enough, the bell rang, and everyone got up from their desks with eager smiles on their faces. A two-week vacation, awesome! Clara couldn't resist smiling along with them as she hurriedly packed her things and tucked her "masterpiece" inside her planner book that she normally took home. She could also vividly recall the time when she got a book that had an adaptation of the ballet for Christmas that year. What a great memory! She had been beyond thrilled, for though she wouldn't admit it out loud, she loved the fairy tale aspect of it all. A fight, a fantastical world, romance...!

"Hey, Clara," her best friend Brianne greeted, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie. "What you gonna do for break?"

Brought back to reality, Clara shrugged. "Try not to get too bored, I guess. Though I'm gonna have family over for Christmas Eve. Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Renee, Uncle Josh, Maddie, and..._it_."

"Yeah, I feel bad for you that you're related to Austin Myers." Brianne clicked her tongue sympathetically. "He picks on my cousin, actually."

"Wouldn't surprise me." Clara got to her locker then to unload. "But, anyway, it should be a good time. Fred won't be such a brat. How about you?"

"Oh, me? Eh, here at Mom's for Christmas Eve and Dad's for Christmas. As usual."

Brianne Wilson, her closest friend since the second grade, came from parents who'd been divorced for a bit over six years now. As much as Clara pitied her, she couldn't technically relate. Her family life seemed too full at times, too busy. Dad at work, Mom at work, Fred being in soccer and basketball, and her in...in...Well, she was probably the least industrious out of all her family. Still, it was constant movement, frenzied rush, so why couldn't they just relax?

"Mm...Well, be thankful there're no pesky brothers in your life, let's just leave it at that," she half-joked.

Brianne laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah, I'm so glad I was born an only child. Oh, almost forgot."

After rummaging in her purse, she took out a Hallmark Christmas card (with the Nutcracker emblazoned on it, no less) and a little box. Clara took them with a smile, letting her eyes linger especially on the card.

"I know how much you love that story. My mom and I were going to go up to Portland to see it on the 23rd and...Look in the card, Clara!"

"OK, OK, don't rush me, jeez!" She playfully rolled her dark brown eyes and flipped it open.

With something that could have been described as an overjoyed squeal, she saw that there was a ticket inside to see that ballet. Oh, it would be so exciting to watch it again! And to see it with Brianne and her mom, who was like a surrogate mom to her...

Upon a recollection, Clara deflated slightly. "Damn...I can't go, Bri. Sorry. But, my mom said she needed help on the pies. Not to mention Dad...He's all like, 'You should spend more time with the family, Clare-Bear'...Whenever he pulls that Clare-Bear crap—I could ask still. Maybe they'll let me go."

"Sounds like they won't, though. That sucks. I totally understand," Brianne sighed.

An awkward silence passed between the two teenage girls, who both were disappointed that they couldn't spend any best friend time together. If she hadn't been focused on this ruined possibility, Clara would have been more resentful that she probably couldn't come. It was always what _they _wanted to do and not what _she _wanted. There was only so much generosity she was willing to give. She knew she needed some time for herself too...and not just to herself, like it seemed to be at home.

Trying to brighten up, she said, "Well, I'll just see what's in this box anyway."

In the box was a gorgeous silver bracelet with colorful charms attached.

When Clara glanced up at Brianne, the other girl put her hand up to her neck in an embarrassed way. "I know, old-school, but at least it's holiday themed. I thought it was cute."

"It is cute." Clara hugged her. "You're the best, Bri."

"Yeah, I just wish we could have gone to see the ballet together."

"I know. But, you know how it is in my house." Being no saint, exactly, there was a bitter edge to Clara's words.

"See you after New Year's, maybe sooner."

"Yeah, see you. Bye."

Maybe she was being too self-pitying over this, for she'd already seen the Christmas production two times. What was she complaining about? When did it begin? Somewhere between her parents watching her little brother's basketball game instead of her eighth grade choral recital and more time on her own, she guessed. Clearly, Fred was the favorite since he was the athlete. Right? Maybe not...It wasn't like Mom and Dad totally bailed on her. Mom took her out shopping two months on her seventeenth birthday...while on the cellphone off and on.

With an impulsive kick at her locker in frustration, Clara left the school building.

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><p>"No," she firmly told herself while biking home. "You're being too much of a spoiled brat, Clara. You're well-off in terms of money, and you got a roof under your head. So what if Mom and Dad pay more attention to Fred? Hell, so what if the rest of the family pays more attention to Fred? Get over yourself!"<p>

As far as she was concerned, she needed a healthy dose of reality. It wasn't like her parents avoided talking to her either. She'd had a great conversation with Dad the other day when he'd gotten off work. However, Fred consistently held the upper hand, simply because he was everything she wasn't: popular, athletic...Wait, that was about it.

There was no way that she would allow herself to be number two to her little brother. They ought to be on an equal playing field. Maybe they both were to their parents after all, and she hadn't wisely reached that conclusion yet. Meantime, letting this _brother _thing corrode her good mood from starting Christmas break was extremely unhealthy.

"I just gotta stop...I'm being immature," she groaned before seeing her house just around the bend. Ah, finally. Like usual, Fred would be at the neighbor kid's across the street, and Mom and Dad still working.

Sure enough, she had to unlock the door using the spare key under the doormat. Typical. Once she went inside, it was all TV watching and junk snacking from that point on. She didn't have a job, simply because she'd never been hired. It didn't matter anyway. She didn't need one. Yet, at the same time, Clara could feel herself losing brain cells watching TV. And there was nothing good on either. How could she spend her whole Christmas break like this? Oh, the eve before and the actual day itself would be fine. It was just the remainder of it that would be tough to survive. But, come on, no more complaints. Wasn't this about average for American life these days?

Later on, with her parents home and dinner eaten, Clara helped her mother with washing the dishes. She wondered if she would be let off pie baking duty in two days with that ticket to _The __Nutcracker_. After all, Mom was very shrewd in money matters. Perhaps knowing that Brianne and her mom bought that ticket for her would make Mom reconsider. After all, it would be a waste of money if she ultimately ended up being unable to go...

"So, Mom," Clara started off nonchalantly enough, "Brianne gave me a couple of early Christmas presents."

Mom rinsed out a couple of forks. "Oh? What'd she get you?"

"Well, this one bracelet she got for me was pretty. It has a Santa Claus charm, a wreath charm, a reindeer charm—you know, stuff like that? But...she also got me..." Clara took a breath, prepared to break the news. "A ticket to go see _The __Nutcracker_. It's playing up at the theater in Portland on the 23rd."

She already felt her heart sinking when she heard an abrupt pause in dish washing. "Clara, I think we've already discussed this. The 23rd is when we're busy getting ready for the family to come over. I need all the help I can get. Besides, you've seen it before. No, I'm sorry, but you can't possibly go."

Of course. At the same time, though, it wasn't fair. Her parents could cut the time they spent with her in half, but they wouldn't let her spend much time with her friends? Not to mention Fred's extracurricular activities.

Angrily, Clara threw aside the drying towel. "If Fred wanted to go to a college basketball game or whatever, you'd let him go. Right?"

Mom gave her a pointed look. "Now, Clara, don't take this personally."

"Hmph, too late," she scoffed, storming out of the kitchen with no desire to help further, only to sulk. It was just...If Mom hadn't gotten that job at that photography studio a few years back, would she, the daughter, be any happier now?

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><p><strong>AN: Anyone being reminded of the beginning of _Labyrinth_? Thought so. XD Yeah, I didn't mean to have it turn it out that way, but then again, I don't think there's such a thing as a perfect family life. So, if Clara seems a little whiny at first, don't worry. She gets a little more likeable throughout the story. Or at least I'd hope so.**

**I wonder if I'll get any responses to this. Because if I do, I might put up the second chapter tomorrow. Just depends.**


	2. An Unusual Gift

**A/N: Ah, so I got a fave and alert from ExtremeRachey (thanks very much), so that's why I decided I'll put this chapter up today. Still no reviews, but that didn't really shock me. Hopefully, since this is the chapter where things get a bit more interesting, it'll be more likely. And I can't stress this enough, people, me saying that this story is out is on my profile. Actually, there was really no point in me saying that. Never mind. Enjoy your holiday shopping.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: An Unusual Gift<strong>

Clara couldn't get to sleep that night, as frustrated as she was to miss an opportunity to see her favorite ballet again. Especially with Brianne. Crushing disappointment threatened to ruin her excitement for Christmas to come. Maybe the bitterness that arose from this, the slightly more attention paid to Fred (who she would cheerfully kill at this moment), and everything rotten in general was because she was lonely. Or something. She could hardly describe it coherently. When Mom had taken that job instead of doing freelance photography, no one spent all that much time in the house. Dad was an elementary school teacher, but even he was fairly busy with conferences, PTA meetings, and grading twenty spelling tests on a given night.

So, where had that left her? Neither parent showing up to the winter choral recital in favor of Fred's basketball game. It wasn't like they'd avoided other programs she'd been in, but she could remember holding that against them. Clara longed for the time they used to spend as a single family unit. That way, she would actually have some patience instead of constant exasperation.

"I just don't get it," she sighed aloud before finally drifting off to sleep.

All in all, her conclusion was that more than ever, she wanted her parents to be there for her. Even if it was sometimes. She wouldn't ask for much.

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><p>The day before Christmas Eve certainly took up a lot of Clara's time. There was vacuuming to be done throughout the house, dust rags to be implemented in battling the dastardly dust bunnies, and pumpkin pies to be baked.<p>

And that didn't cover all the chores Mom inevitably directed her to do.

For some odd reason, apparently, the laundry had to be done too, so guess what she was stuck with? Heck, even Fred wasn't safe from this obviously OCD-ridden madness. He had to actually get off his lazy butt playing video games to clean his room, to put it in perfect order until Mom deemed it satisfactory. Meanwhile, Dad did some outdoor work but otherwise enjoyed relaxing in front of the TV. Not that Clara blamed him. No, in fact, she wished she could trade places.

By the time she finished up all the chores Mom asked of her to complete, she was even more tired than that morning. At one o'clock in the afternoon, she felt like a good, long nap was in order.

Just as she passed through the living room, her dad said to her, "Hey, Clare-Bear, come here for a minute."

Somewhat confused, she walked to his recliner. "Uh, hey, Dad. What do you want?"

"Just wanted to say I was sorry that you couldn't go to that ballet. Your mom told me. Though, between you and me, I would have let you go if you'd asked me."

Clara smiled wryly. "I know you would have, Dad. But, Mom really would have done all she could to make me stay home. Apparently, family coming over is a big deal."

Putting the TV on mute, Dad glanced up at her before shrugging. "Well, it is, since your grandparents didn't want the get-together to be at their house this year. And our house is bigger than the Myers'."

"That sucks. It's just...It's not so much the ballet, but it's been a while since I've really hung out with Bri. It's fine, though. I totally get it."

Turning away from the recliner, disheartened, Clara made to go upstairs when she heard Dad say, "Well, next time you want anything, all you have to do is ask."

Really? Maybe she would try that tactic when it didn't seem so hopeless.

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><p>Christmas Eve soon arrived before Clara knew it. Christmas now was just around the corner. Admittedly, even though she was seventeen, she still adored the holiday, absolutely enjoyed the spirit and, she supposed, near magic of it all. With the magic, it was probably because all those after-school specials hyped that up too much. She liked to believe that there was so much fantasy the holiday held. There was something beautiful about seeing it gently snow on TV. Personally, she'd never seen snow except on that one vacation to the Cascades, where she could see it in piles on the mountaintops far off.<p>

But, this was no time to reflect on everything she loved about Christmas. She had to comb her hair.

It was depressing enough that her mom decided that she wanted her to wear a "festive" Christmas sweater. However, there was an olive green T-shirt under this hand-sewn-looking monstrosity, so she'd take it off in due time. Who knew? Maybe she'd "accidentally" spill some mashed potatoes and gravy on the ugly reindeer sweater. Early X-mas present, yeah right.

"Yep, thank you very much, Mom," she muttered under her breath, wincing as she found a tangle in her chestnut hair. The problem with it was it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be curly or straight on some days.

Once she got it arranged to where she'd prefer it, Clara decided to go downstairs and wait for her relatives to show up. She loved all her extended relatives equally for the most part, though she inwardly prayed that her younger cousin Austin would be sick. He even annoyed Fred, and that was saying something. With a whole lot of arrogance, he would brag about how awesome he was and how he was going out with the prettiest (or, his term, "hottest") girl. She would kill to knock him down a peg or two. And unfortunately, because she didn't want him there, he probably would show up in perfect health.

On the more positive side of things, she was ecstatic that she would get to see Uncle Josh again. Uncle Josh was a laid-back, easygoing man who was extremely nice. When it came to gifts for his niece and nephew, he picked out unique ones that were nonetheless fun.

When Fred was around nine, Uncle Josh got him a set of tin soldiers that he had restored to near mint condition. And for Clara, he gave her a jewelry kit, so she could craft her own bracelets. She seemed to be an especial favorite with her uncle and he with her. Uncle Roger, from Dad's side of the family, was OK but just couldn't compare to Uncle Josh. Her uncle was cool, liked to ride his motorcycle occasionally, and was a great kid person.

So, when the Myers' showed up shortly after Grandma Karen and Grandpa Clark, Clara soon found that she wore a gigantic grin on her face. Not even conceited Austin could sour this moment for her. There was still Aunt Renee, her favorite cousin Maddie (they exchanged hugs), and of course, Uncle Josh.

"So, how's my niece?" he greeted, and she noticed that he was the one who carried the gift bag. "How's school?"

"Good, Uncle Josh. I'm glad it's break, though."

He chuckled. "I bet you are. I know I hated school when I was your age."

Uncle Josh then set the gift bag under the tree, making Clara curious as to its contents.

A few minutes later, the whole family sat down to eat the dinner that Mom had prepared over the last two and a half hours. Clara, Fred, Maddie, and Austin all sat close to each other, which had both its advantages and disadvantages.

"So, Clara," Fred mentioned, "I'm psyched for when I can play basketball again."

"That's real interesting, Fred," she murmured in veiled sarcasm.

Austin guffawed when he looked at her. "Hey, Clare, where'd you get the sweater?"

"Shut up, Austin, none of your business. I didn't ask to wear this, believe me."

"Real cute. It's probably the sexiest thing ever."

Losing patience with her own younger brother, Madeline (nicknamed Maddie) punched him in the shoulder. "Austin, that's enough. Clara, you're lucky. At least you don't have to apologize for your brother."

"Hey, you know I'm God's gift. I'm special. That's what my high school girlfriend tells me."

Fred snorted derisively at his cousin's remark, for he knew better. "She's just a freshman. Who cares if she's a year older than you?"

While the two boys proceeded to debate over this pressing issue, Clara murmured to Maddie, "I think I'm taking the stupid sweater off after I eat."

"Good idea. It's hideous." In brutal honesty, Maddie whispered this.

When the family Christmas dinner concluded, Clara stepped in the other room, peeling off that vile, itchy wool sweater. This was what her outfit should have been initially. Just that olive green tee and her nicest, snazziest pair of jeans. She and Maddie made a point to avoid their brothers while they had their conversation. Clara confided in her cousin regarding the thrill she got when Brianne gave her that _Nutcracker _ticket as an early Christmas gift. Instead of attending the show with Bri and Bri's mom, she ended up having to throw the ticket away.

"That sucks," Maddie sympathized.

She pretended to shrug indifferently. "I should have known I wouldn't be able to go. I can't wait til I get out of this house, maybe this town."

"Yeah, I get it. Because there's nothing to do at your house, right? I mean, sounds like you hardly get to do anything."

"I know, that's why I was so mad. Let's trade parents."

Maddie shook her head. "Come on, Clara. Don't go that far. If everybody got along with their families all the time, it would be freaky. Like _The __Brady __Bunch_ or something, just everyone smiling all the time. And singing."

"Ugh!" Clara flinched at the creepy mental image. "If that was the case, then I'd wonder if I was the star of my own horror movie."

At that point, Mom, ever the one in charge of the entire operation, told them that it was time for the gift exchange. Everyone gathered around the tree to pass out gifts to each other. It wasn't so organized to the point they had to take turns or that it had to be in a timely fashion. It was whenever. Clara believed that her mother just liked to plan everything. She probably wanted the rest of their family to leave at 8:30 or something. When Uncle Josh got around to passing out the surely amazing presents for her and Fred, she could hardly wait. The one thing about her favored uncle was that he was always full of surprises, always unpredictable. She never knew what he'd be up to next.

"Clara, Fred." He took two wrapped packages out of the bag. "Merry Christmas."

Both of them eager to see what they received, the two siblings practically tore up the decorative wrapping paper in seconds. When Clara opened hers, she discovered that she'd gotten a DVD of _The __Breakfast __Club_, and the card that came with it contained a gift card to Barnes & Noble. Very nice. Despite the fact that these gifts were more standard, she was well aware that Uncle Josh had taken her age into account. That at this point, as a teenager, all she requested was money and the occasional movie or CD. She was all good with the average things.

However, she practically choked on a stifled gasp when she saw what Fred held in his hands. It was a nutcracker soldier, similar to the intriguing character in the ballet, only dressed in a blue coat with silver buttons and black pants. Interestingly enough, no goatee but a mustache. Oh, lucky Fred! As childish as she hated to be or feel, she felt a pang of jealousy take hold of her. Yeah, she got a great gift card and a movie that made her laugh, but this was something that reminded her of that cherished ballet.

"What's this?" Fred asked, skeptically analyzing his new toy, as though unsure if it suited his tastes. Probably not. However, she wouldn't go complaining that it wasn't fair.

Uncle Josh glanced at the nutcracker and smiled. "That, Fred, is a nutcracker. You know, like the story. I found it at an antique store in a different town. I thought it'd go with your tin soldiers anyway. It's actually not that old but still old enough that they had to restore it. As you see here, though, it's as good as new."

"Um..." Fred appeared to be at a loss. "Thanks, Uncle Josh."

"No problem, kid. Why don't you try it out? If you don't like it, well, I still gave you money. That oughta make you happy at least."

Of course, her brother's face positively lit up upon hearing that he got some money. Clara figured he was being ungrateful, but that was just her.

Though he appeared elated that he found twenty dollars in his card, Fred still held on to his nutcracker when he walked over to the kitchen. Due to boredom, she followed him, curious to see what kind of nuts he would use. Hopefully, not anything too...

"Hey, I wonder if he could crack these." Fred held up a walnut that he got from the basket resting on the counter.

Clara refrained from slapping herself. "Oh God, Fred, you've _got_ to be kidding me! Look at the size of his mouth for starters. Now look at that walnut. You do the math."

With a glazed, apathetic look in his hazel eyes, Fred tossed the walnut idly up before catching it. "I hate math. It sucks."

"Well, it's basic anyway. Walnut's about two times bigger than the nutcracker's mouth. You don't even have to do any math. Don't you know what I'm getting at here?"

"Come on, Clara, it's no big deal. You need to chillax."

"Great...Great, you just made that word seriously uncool. Fine. It's your nutcracker. What the heck am I worried about?"

_Exactly, __Clare_, she thought to herself as she made to approach Maddie, _it__'__s __not __like __the __nutcracker __is __really __a __person __like __in __the __story._She only had a dreamer's longing that such things were real. In the meantime, she'd get back to talking with her cousin and sharing a good laugh over this.

She was about to say Maddie's name when..._crunch!_

"Oh damn, Fred, what did you do?" Clara cursed out of surprise, a habit that she desperately needed to kick. She knew it, too. When she turned around, she noticed her brother dejectedly holding the nutcracker that now had a slack jaw. More or less, that part of it broke. She sighed.

He groaned, "I never listen to you when I should."

"Uh, no, duh," she replied, coming closer to him so she could take it away from him. Luckily for her, he surrendered the toy.

"I don't want it anyway. It's a piece of crap. Tell Uncle Josh I'm sorry," he said all of this in a sulky, pouty way before slouching away.

Clara couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "That was real mature of him."

Well, Fred _was _twelve. What else could she expect of him, especially considering that boys matured slower than girls? She did have to give him the benefit of the doubt for not breaking the nutcracker on purpose. Glancing down at his loosened jaw, she sincerely pitied him for ending up in this compromising situation.

She thought it was stupid that she would be sorry for a toy, childish. As she unconsciously clutched the nutcracker tighter, Uncle Josh came in just then, presumably to get the rest of one of the pies to take home. When he noticed her holding the now useless nutcracker, he approached her.

"Did Fred break it?"

"Yeah," she sighed wearily. "He says he's sorry."

Uncle Josh nonetheless smiled. "Ah, he tried it with a walnut, huh? I actually came prepared, Clara, don't worry."

He proceeded to take a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his shirt and tied it around the toy's head.

"That should do it...least, until I talk to the antique shop people again. You know, this gift was supposed to be for the both of you. It's no secret how much you like the ballet."

Clara smiled wryly. "Nah, not really. Thanks, Uncle Josh."

"No problem. Now, I've got to get the rest of that pumpkin pie. Your mom's a killer baker."

"At least you're fixed," Clara muttered to the nutcracker, which might have looked up at her with human eyes for a moment. But, that could have been just a trick of the light.

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><p><strong>AN: Mwahahaha, foreshadowing! I love it. Since there're a lot of douches who happen to be named Austin at my school, don't be shocked that Clara's cousin Austin was a bit annoying. And for a modern spin on the extremely old-school name of Drosselmeyer (if the name even exists), I decided to shorten the last name to Myers, the last name of Clara's favorite uncle Josh. Short and simple, see? Imagining myself writing Uncle Drosselmeyer a lot in my notebook and typing it up just makes me cringe.**

**So, you all might know what happens next. But, you won't know how or what to expect from these newly introduced characters next chapter. You just might be surprised.**

**ONE MORE THING, REVIEW. YEAH, I'M BEING OBNOXIOUS BY PUTTING ALL THIS IN BOLD, BUT THIS STORY IS MY BABY! Please. XD I'm usually not this annoying. XDD**


	3. War in the Living Room

**A/N: All right, thanks to you guys who're visiting this story, I might not have to move it to the Fairy Tales section after all. But, I'm still considering it. Anyway, here's chapter three.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: War in the Living Room<strong>

That night, Clara barely slept, most likely due to the sugary soda she drank at around an hour before bed. She couldn't help it, though. Her thirst needed quenched after the slice of chocolate cream pie she had. Now, here she was at 11:30 with her eyes shot wide open.

It was partially because of the rush of sugar but partially because of something feeling off somehow. As though not everything was as normal as it should have been. Maybe the nutcracker soldier had something to do with it. After pretending that she hadn't seen a flash in his painted eyes, she had put him on a shelf in her room. There he stood, keeping watch over her model horses.

Even if he was a mere wooden toy, Clara suspected him of holding some kind of mystical power. Blame it on her love of the ballet, but she knew there was something not right, mainly the eyes. Well, that didn't matter. What was she worried about? With those thoughts in mind, she climbed into bed but never quite fell asleep. When she did wake up, the first place she glanced over was that particular shelf.

The model horses were still there...though the nutcracker had gone missing.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered skeptically.

_OK,_ she thought, _I __might __assume __that __all __nutcrackers __can __use __their __pair __of __legs __to __get __up __and __walk __around._ Ha, sure. And he was a wounded nutcracker too, a soldier who was supposed to rest in the infirmary. As his devoted (well, reluctantly devoted) nurse, Clara felt that her duty was to soothe him back to health. In a way. Come on, he was a toy, a child's plaything, and above all, a useless, inanimate object! He definitely couldn't walk or talk or sing or any of that garbage! He was an old-school toy, not a Furby. Out of annoyance, Clara let out a sigh that summed up her aggravated feelings. If she had to search the whole house for him, she would.

Briefly stretching out her arms, she proceeded to put on her teddy bear slippers that inadvertently represented the little girl in her. These slippers served as one of her deepest, darkest secrets. She was too ashamed to tell Bri that she owned them. Padding across the carpeted floor, she slowly opened the bedroom door so as not to wake up Fred nearby.

When he'd gone to bed, he had still acted somewhat pouty but was in better spirits. He even ventured checking to see if his broken gift was all right. At least her brother possessed some positive character traits.

Once she made her way downstairs, she found him on the floor near the living room TV.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" she asked the nutcracker as though he could reply. "I guess maybe you couldn't sleep either. Or Fred could have gotten up earlier and came down here with you for some reason. Then again, he can sleep through an earthquake. I don't know."

With a lopsided shrug, Clara settled on the plush couch and set the nutcracker down on a nearby coffee table. "In the meantime, I can't sleep. So, I guess it'll be you and me watching movies on TV."

With that, she switched the TV on and found a decent movie to watch,

"Oooh, _Little __Women_. I love this movie. OK, so all I know is Jo's the Winona Ryder character here. I barely know who all the oth—oh yeah, forgot all about Kirsten Dunst. Sometimes, I can't believe how much child actors change over the years. Right, right, you want me to shut up."

In a weird, psychic way, Clara was sure that this was legitimately the case. She knew that sometimes, her parents didn't appreciate her ranting, but they seemed more patient with her. Those she didn't know that well...not so much. She half-grinned at him.

"I do kind, sort of get carried away sometimes."

A few peaceful minutes passed of strictly movie watching. An odd noise then distracted her.

The clock in the living room ticked louder than usual to announce that the midnight hour was at hand. Confused, Clara put the TV on mute to look up at that owl clock.

It was a tacky thing that Mom had discovered at a yard sale and thought it was a "gotta have it" item. In both her and Fred's views, it was the ugliest thing they'd ever seen in their lives. It had an owl head with giant googly eyeballs that moved back and forth with each tick and tock. The actual clock part of it was what its belly was supposed to be. For it to act weird unnerved her quite a bit. No way did it tick that violently with a new hour.

"I hope it's on the fritz," Clara admitted aloud to herself. "I mean, it's an ugly clock, wouldn't you say?"

"To be honest, yeah. But, I'm more worried about that army of rats coming from your kitchen."

She promptly fell off the couch in surprise. "What the hell?"

For, the nutcracker was no longer on the coffee table but standing at attention on the floor. His painted green eyes had now come alive sharply as he pointed toward the kitchen. She blinked back her disbelief.

"That was some unladylike language," he said lightly, almost teasing.

Clara straightened up from where she sat, slightly glaring at him and his unnecessary taunt. "No way. Did you just talk?"

"You see my mouth moving? Of course I am. Get over it and...Stay on the couch. The rats are coming in right now." From his waist, he drew a sword she'd never seen on him.

With a huffy sigh, she collapsed back down on the piece of furniture. "How come the girls never get to fight?"

"Tradition." He grinned before running toward what looked like twenty armored rats crawling in, gradually standing to their feet.

This was all so much to take in at once. Clara thought for sure that she must have dozed off during the movie. It was very surreal to her, like this surely couldn't happen in real life. As a matter of fact, though, she noticed quite clearly the leader of the ugly rat infestation. It was kind of obvious with him appearing the largest out of his army and the defining jeweled crown on his head. So loaded with diamonds, sapphires, and rubies was the headpiece that it looked like the king could barely keep his head up.

"Mouse King," the nutcracker boldly addressed him. "We meet again."

Unexpectedly, the rat let out an agonized scream of frustration that caused Clara to glance at him strangely. What was his deal?

"Oh, you foolish boy!" he scolded. "We discussed this last time. I am a _rat_, not a pathetic mouse. Mice are infinitely weaker, and I'm most ashamed to be related to those cheese-eating idiots!"

The nutcracker shrugged. "Rat, mouse, same difference. You guys always meet the same end anyway."

"Ha, not tonight! Twenty-one of us against only you. What to do?"

Though she wasn't the least bit scared of what could enfold (as she had a certain ballet for guidance), Clara couldn't help but admire this nutcracker's cleverness. He delivered one-liners that were practically classic! Still, he was a bit sexist. Otherwise, she would have liked him all right.

"Exactly. What am I going to do? Glad you asked, King Mouse—"

"Don't...you..."

With a short laugh, the nutcracker sneered. "I got back-up. Hey, boys, I need a little assistance in taking this fraud out!"

With two wooden fingers, he blew a whistle loud enough to awaken the dead. True to his word, Fred's tin soldiers joined the fight along with gingerbread cookie men.

"Damn it, I was gonna eat those," Clara muttered to herself, alluding to the gingerbread men she helped her mom bake on the 22nd. That activity she hadn't minded doing, simply because that aroma smelled delicious. What a waste it would be if they fell in violent battle. Despite these misgivings, she found her gaze transfixed to the increasingly thrilling scene. The movie playing on TV was ignored entirely.

So, with swords clashing in a challenging duel, both king and soldier faced off while their subordinates proceeded to fight each other. There was much wrestling and swordplay going on. Secretly, Clara approved.

In fact, she felt a strong urge to yell her support for the nutcracker, something that would have been frowned upon at the ballet for sure. She could just picture well-dressed old ladies giving her offended glares. Surprisingly, even though it had promised to be epic, the battle came to its startlingly fast conclusion a few minutes later. There were some casualties from the king's side but more so from the nutcrackers. Broken, now normal-sized, gingerbread men lay about the floor. When they had all become full-sized at one point, she'd started worrying.

"Guys, watch the—!" she had shouted at the time before a vase full of poinsettias crashed to the floor. "Ugh, never mind."

It resulted in a terrible mess, as was inevitable. It had to be at a very inconvenient time when they grew, didn't it? Clara groaned aloud at the thought of having to explain to her parents. Oh, Fred's new toy and its friends did it. No big deal. _She_didn't wreak all this havoc.

The Mouse King growled, "You will pay for my losses, boy. I will see to it."

"Uh-huh, sure...Mozzarella."

A wince in response. "Ugh...I curse my parents every day for naming me that. No matter. This isn't finished! Not remotely. Hm, now that I think about it—hah!"

Out of sheer desperation and longing to win, the Mouse King lunged toward the nutcracker with his sharp sword drawn. Concerned for the toy, Clara impulsively took off a slipper and hurled it at the hideous rat. It hit its target on the head, causing his crown to tumble over his eyes. He promptly dropped his sword, flailing his chubby arms about, before falling. Kerplunk!

"Ah, heavy lies the crown. I'm guessing it's too heavy for that ugly head of yours." The nutcracker smiled broadly. "Now, get out of my owner's house. You've overstayed your welcome."

With yet another exasperated scream, the king stumbled to his feet and retreated from the living room. From what Clara could surmise, he'd crawled out through the dog flap. For once, she was glad the thing was still there, though they hadn't owned a dog in years.

Somewhat relieved that the villain wandered off, Clara chose this time to survey the damage. The unwounded must have sneaked off to their former spots. As for those wounded, they were strewn about the carpet, shrunk back, thankfully. Piles of crumbs were there along with missing tin appendages.

However, an armchair was turned over along with the coffee table and the two lamps.

The nutcracker, remaining life-sized, came up beside her. "Thanks, Clara. Ole Mozzy would have—or maybe he wouldn't have gotten me. I don't know. But, thank you for not letting me find out."

"Great, so maybe you can clean this room up. It's your mess. And you let half the cookies crumble! Now, what am I gonna eat?"

Incredulously, he laughed. "Clara, you don't get it. I don't _do _cleaning."

"No, you sit on your ass and watch TV, am I right?"

"Ouch! That hurts me. Besides, I barely know what a TV is."

Realizing her error, Clara murmured, "Oh," before adding on, "You still got to clean this up, though. My parents will kill me. And don't tell me this is my fault! You and that ugly rat were doing battle in our living room, after all. Believe me, if the rat was still here, I'd give him a vacuum, too."

"Vacuum?"

"Yeah, a _vacuum_. This isn't 1875, you know."

The nutcracker touched his black hat. "Why are we arguing about this again?"

She let out a sigh. "I don't know. I get defensive. Sorry."

An awkward silence followed in which the two of them looked around everywhere but at each other. Why was she getting angry? Hm, maybe she didn't want to ruin everybody's Christmas. Speaking of which, at least the fake tree went unscathed. No one's presents were ransacked.

"So...um, what's your name?" she asked.

He flinched slightly at the question. "It's Peter."

"Peter...Oh, like Tchaikovsky. Hmph, that's ironic."

"Chi—what did you say?"

She snorted yet not unkindly at his attempted pronunciation. "He was some guy who did this really famous ballet. I might tell you about him later. If I tell you now, you might be in for a nasty shock."

Peter walked over to the slipper that she used to hit the Mouse King so that he could give it back to her. Upon seeing clearly what it looked like, his eyes lit up amusedly.

"Teddy bear slippers?"

Clara wiggled her bare foot, sticking her tongue out at him. "Yeah, so? Don't judge me. I was shopping one day, and I thought they were cute."

"Well, Mozz is allergic to anything fluffy and cute, so good call on that one."

She admittedly felt quite relieved that he hadn't proceeded to directly make fun of her. Maybe Peter would be a cool guy after all.

Then, out of the blue, he mentioned, "Even though the Mouse King seems hilarious as far as villains go, he wasn't making an idle threat. He's controlled my kingdom for too long now. He has to be stopped. So, I'm taking you hostage."

"What the he—?"

"Before you curse on me again, I was kidding. Can't you take a joke?"

Clara groaned as she firmly crossed her arms. "Worst April Fool's Joke ever."

Peter chuckled once more, a somewhat intriguing sound that set her at ease. "OK, OK, I'll give you that. But, I'm serious about the rest of what I said. And I might need some help."

Help? Well, she had to remember the plot of the ballet for reference. This would be the part where he took her back to his kingdom. Along the way, she would have to try breaking his curse. She hoped she could succeed in doing that, though she doubted she'd truly fall in love with him on the quest. It was too early, not to mention an unfit social environment.

"OK, I'll help you. It's not like I got anything better to do. Besides, you wiped out, like, a third of the gingerbread cookies I was planning to eat."

"For your information, they made good soldiers."

Clara retorted, "And for your information, I saw the rats going to town on them. No one can resist the sweet spiciness of gingerbread!"

Peter seemed to think on her words before saying, "Right. Well, I was just saying that you might need to get ready to go. I doubt that what you're wearing now will work."

"True...I'll be back down in five."

For, as far as clothes went, she wasn't wearing much, obviously. Only her usual sleepwear: blue and green flannel pajama pants and a slightly oversized Aerosmith T-shirt. She loved that particular band to death, so it made sense that she owned that white shirt. Besides, it was definitely for the best that she should change clothes.

She realized how self-conscious she felt in wearing what she wore around Peter...a member of the opposite sex. Once she came to that inevitable conclusion while climbing the stairs, Clara blushed with a deep red. She never thought she'd have to consider it. With that in mind, she rushed into her room to put on socks, a worn pair of jeans, and her turquoise Converse.

Also, some, well...certain articles that she neglected the first time around when she had woken up. Oh God, if she'd figured out that the nutcracker was one of the enchanted variety sooner...

When she came back down, Peter assessed her. "That'll do. There is snow where I come from, but it doesn't get too cold."

"How is that possible?"

He shrugged. "It'd be a fantasy land in your world. It doesn't have to make sense. You don't have to worry about frostbite or anything."

It would be terrible if her whole body turned black from it. She shuddered at the thought. However, that would be none of her concern.

"So...How are we going to get to your world from my world?" Clara asked, extremely curious as to how to work out that matter.

"Turn off the TV for a bit," he suggested.

She sighed, "It's too bad that I didn't get to watch this all of this movie again. And they're at the part when it's Christmas, and their dad comes home. And Beth plays the piano, so that makes everyone sing...Yep, it's a shame."

"You know, we might not have TVs, but we have books. _Little __Women_...Well, I never read that one, since it's kind of a girly book. Not my thing."

"Whatever." She found that she was ready to leave, so she could get back to sleep. It wasn't necessary that she hear Peter's book critiques either, so she added, "You're a guy. You can't possibly understand."

"Maybe not. OK, turn the TV back on."

Clara shook her head skeptically. "Wasting electricity, I'm telling you. What the—?"

As the TV switched back on, all she saw were blankets of white surrounding a humble village that had a candy cane entrance gate. Snow. No snowflakes sprinkled down, but it reminded her of a Swiss Alps scene. It was like the picture off the Swiss Miss cocoa box. She smiled dreamily, off in space.

"Wow. It's beautiful. It's like it came right out of my dreams or something," she murmured, admiring this picturesque beauty.

Peter smiled slightly. "I'm glad you like it. It's my home. Seeing parts of it like this make me proud to be from here. So, you see, that's why we have to stop Mozzarella. I'd hate it if he spoiled it. And I will need help..."

Moved by his words, Clara looked over at him and saw how determined he seemed. He carried himself with a brave confidence that evoked how much of the true prince he was, if the ballet had told her anything.

The silver buttons on his sapphire blue coat glimmered from the artificial light that the TV shed. And his green eyes...Fiercely brilliant.

She held out her hand toward him. "Well, you know I'll be on your side. But, there's just one thing."

"What's that?"

"Would it be fine by you if I participated in the fighting?"

Peter let out a warm chuckle. "Of course. I'm not sexist."

That made everything a whole lot better. "Great. The rat is going down. I mean, he's the reason the house is a mess."

The two of them then shook hands before stepping as close as they could to the TV screen.

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><p><strong>AN: I really couldn't resist putting a _Toy Story _reference in here. The whole "child's plaything" bit. And talking about unfit social environments is a sociology thing. That one managed to sneak in there.**

**OK, you might not think much of it now, but Peter letting Clara fight will come into question later on in the story. For now, just enjoy it, and I know I rushed the war scene and put things out of order and crap. Sorry about that. However, it still didn't last that long on purpose.**

**Bye for now. See you either on Friday or Saturday when I update. Probably Friday.**


	4. Welcome to Marzipania

**A/N: This chapter, guys, is where you can say bye bye to conventional Nutcracker plot and hello to the method to my madness. Or at least my crazy ideas. I'm surprised by the hits to this story, considering it's in a pretty obscure part of the site. But, thanks for finding it, and furthermore, thanks for choosing to peruse this.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Welcome to Marzipania<strong>

"So, how will this even work?" Clara screwed up her eyes near shut in an intense gaze at the television screen. This was so freaky that a whole other world was behind there. She used to imagine that she could be sucked into the TV when she was little, but she never expected anything like this. Not even close.

Peter muttered, "Maybe touching the screen will work."

"I'm not even going to bother asking you how you know all this, but oh well, it's worth a shot. OK, _Poltergeist _moment right here."

"I don't get that reference."

"Of course you don't. You're missing out on the joys of cinema."

And with that somewhat snide comment, Clara placed her hands on the TV, only to have them go through.

"K, what is this black magic? Wait...Wait! WHOOOAAA!"

"I think you're overreacting, Clar—oh God, my stomach! OK, I see what you me—MEEEAAN, AHHH!"

As though it acted as a swirling vortex, the screen managed to suck in the two teenagers to the other world, both of them screaming.

Clara almost had what she could only call an Alice in Wonderland complex later on. For, it seemed she was falling, falling, falling...A plummeting sensation in her stomach made her want to vomit. Her head began to feel dizzy. She hated this feeling of weightlessness, wanted it to go away so badly.

And then, plop, into fresh snow...or was it?

"Sugar...so much sugar. Ugh."

Peter flopped down beside her. "Yeah, sugar snow. Kind cool, isn't it?"

"Not really, it's nasty. I got a lot in my mouth."

Now, normally, Clara wouldn't mind the saccharine sweetness of sugar in her mouth. However, as with everything else, too much of a good thing resulted in inevitable unpleasantness. Disgusted with having copious amounts of sugar in her mouth, she coughed and spat it out.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "Ugh! I hate having so much of it."

"That's the one drawback, I guess. Anyway, welcome...to Marzipania."

Allowing this time to take note of her surroundings, she looked out from her vantage point on the "snowy" sugar hill toward the underlying village. It appeared that each of the houses was made of some type of cookie.

And what impressed her was that no two houses looked the same. For a mere village, it proved to stand out more than any other fairy tale settlement. So much to take in. Clara closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, that was how much in disbelief she truly was.

How could she _not _be dreaming at this moment?

"Wow...Wait, Marzipania? Isn't it called the Land of Sweets?"

Peter scoffed, "Uh, no. We haven't gone by that name in years. Good thing, too. I saw that name in a history book one day, and I thought it was terrible."

Hm, now that she thought about it, the regal name of Marzipania sounded more epic, more imaginative. Land of Sweets seemed rather dull in comparison. Maybe they should have picked better names for stuff in the ballet. If she had been in charge, she couldn't have chosen a better name than mystical Marzipania. When she glanced back toward Peter, she reached an abrupt realization. His red painted cheeks didn't have a certain fabric brushing against them. Where had the handkerchief gone?

"What about your jaw? It broke earlier. What...What happened?"

He let out a laugh. "About time you noticed. Well, as for how it healed...Magic!"

"Typical," she murmured, a bit disappointed. For a while there, she thought he was deep.

She proceeded to walk away from him, wanting nothing more than to get this adventure started and finished. As soon as Peter would be satisfied with being his handsome prince self again, he would hardly care to bother with her.

He would be so happy that he appeared remotely human that he wouldn't even talk to her. Holding his head up high, he wouldn't show any thankfulness. All men were like that. Once you served your purpose to them, your services were no longer required. Clara wasn't bitter or cynical with this mindset, just wary. She knew she was only his ally because he was desperate for his spell to be broken and his kingdom restored.

When she resolved to descend the hill, she tripped on a noticeably large sugar clump.

"Oh crap! Whoa, and it's a long way dow—!"

"Don't worry, I got you!"

Sure enough, a strong wooden hand gripped her elbow before she slid down much farther. Though she couldn't have gotten hut if she skidded all the way down, Clara was deathly afraid of heights. And the hill they happened to be on turned out to be the biggest one for a few miles around.

So, when Peter's hand prevented her from becoming too frightened (though she wouldn't dare admit just how scared), she felt a sweep of relief. And...well, gratitude.

"Thanks." She smiled up at him and his very vivid green eyes. She admitted to herself that she found them quite beautiful, exotic-looking. When he returned her smile, she saw those same eyes crinkle at the corners. An endearing image, she thought.

Then, he blew it by teasing, "Were you scared?"

Clara still kept her smile. "Well, maybe a little. Um...Me and heights don't get along. I fell out of a tree when I was eight and broke my leg."

Peter winced as he imagined himself in her place. "Well, that explains it then. But, for someone who's got such a big mouth, I didn't think you were scared of anything."

OK. Her smile disappeared entirely as she threw him what was supposed to be a menacing glare. Instead, he went ahead and laughed.

She retorted, "I suppose you're gonna use it against me now."

His face turned solemn, his eyes losing their glow. "Clara, believe me when I say this. In my opinion, I think that using somebody's fears against them is a cruel thing to do. Mozzarella would encourage that."

The hand that lingered on her elbow for a long time after the rescue moved to cup her shoulder. "It's OK to be scared. But, you have to know that you shouldn't let it control you. Hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. But, Peter...How'd you end up knowing my name?"

He replied as though it was obvious, "I heard your brother say it. Fred. The one who broke my jaw."

"I think I'd know who my own brother is in a police line-up."

This seemed to amuse Peter who goofily smiled again.

Even though they'd barely scratched the surface when it came to knowing each other, Clara believed that they were becoming fast friends. In fact, the way he'd held her shoulder...How could he act that way around her already? Nah, it wasn't affection, just being friendly. As she debated within herself as to the state of their newly formed friendship, she thought she saw a glimmer up in the sky. The sun hit a certain spot that gleamed silver.

Peter stroked his chin. "Well...I was wondering when she'd show up."

"Who?"

Before he could elaborate, a silver chariot driven by six winged unicorns landed a few feet from where they sat.

Winged unicorns? Clara admitted that that was an original concept. Peering over Peter's shoulder, she stifled a gasp upon seeing the loveliness of these creatures. They were a shimmering pearl white that looked colorfully reflective when the sun shone on their coats. Their horns, not silver, beamed gold along with their hooves.

She wished that they existed back in Oregon, because that would make life there a bit more intriguing. On the other hand, though, she knew (somehow _knew_) that these unicorns could never be truly tamed. With those wide, majestic white wings (about eagle size), they could fly away in an instant. It was a miracle that they were even reined to this chariot.

It was then that Clara took note of its sole occupant who stepped out of the chariot. Her long golden hair came down in waves to the upper half of her back—very long yet very pretty. She wore a magenta dress, skirts ending just above her knees. For, she was laced up to there in deep purple ballet slippers, as though she stepped out of the ballet adaptation. And even though she was possibly as immortal as an elf, she looked virtually ageless. She had a teenager's face yet an older woman's. It was hard to tell, depending on where light and shadow played off it. As for her eyes, they were that rare violet color.

Clara could hardly believe that a single person would seem this ethereal, lighter than air and lovelier than a poinsettia flower. Or any flower for that matter. Somehow, she was impelled to curtsy before this statuesque woman.

The woman, however, held up her hand. "No need to do that. I'm no queen."

"Then, who—?"

Peter gestured toward the enigmatic stranger. "This is Melina, Clara. She's the Sugar Plum Fairy. And very skilled at magic."

Waving a dismissive hand, Melina responded, "Peter, I'm modest, I can assure you. However, yes, people have told me I possess much magical power. So, you must be this Clara girl I intuitively knew would come here."

Intuitively, huh? She guessed that being a fairy meant having a sort of magical ESP, too. As if she wasn't jealous enough of her.

"Yeah, I am. Peter wanted me to help defeat the Mouse King."

Melina smiled mysteriously. "As I presumed. It is wise of Peter to assume that King Mozzarella has returned to Marzipania. For, he has. He retreated to here through his own way after the battle in your living room."

"Figures," Clara sighed huffily, dismayed that he hadn't gotten squished or eaten rat poison during all this time. "Do you know where he is?"

She shook her head but took out her silver wand. "No, but I can show you a future location of his."

With gently made air patterns, Melina managed to fabricate an image of a specific spot in this vast land. The picture in question displayed a grandiose palace that could almost boast its superiority over the Taj Mahal. The main construction seemed to be made of gingerbread, hardier than the houses' cookie material might be. For decoration, there were gumdrops, bits of white and milk chocolate, and even rows of vibrant frosting.

Peter groaned, "That's Marzipania Palace. My home."

"Oooh. Maybe Mozz's rats will kill themselves trying to eat it."

Though Clara was optimistic that this would happen, she noted that his shoulders still slumped. Oh well, she tried. She could only watch helplessly as the wondrous image dissolved in thin air. If they didn't stop the Mouse King soon, the sight of the palace vanishing could very well be a reality.

"So, if we don't get there in time, the rats might destroy every bit of Peter's home. Right?"

More serious, Melina inclined her head. "It is most likely. There will be a battle—an invasion—at Marzipania Palace. In the meantime, you must ensure you arrive there within three days."

Both adolescents' eyebrows shot up. "Three days?"

The Sugar Plum Fairy smiled wider to the point of giggling slightly. The sound resounded pleasantly like the tinkling of bells.

"Yes, though I'm sure you will accomplish this arduous task. I have perfect faith in you two. Peter, you did well in bringing this strong-willed girl along."

In a civil manner, he gave her a bow. "Thank you, Melina."

"Now, now, I don't want a bow from you either. I merely have magic. I'm not one for unnecessary formalities. Now, I will reveal to you the path you'll take to reach your destination. Listen carefully, for I will only tell you this once. I assure you it's simple to memorize."

Clara and Peter both unconsciously stepped closer to her, to listen attentively to what she would inform them. All the while, Clara's heart beat furiously in her chest. She hoped she wouldn't fail them. Either of them.

Melina proceeded to explain, "First, you will go through the Candy-Coated Caverns, which are not too far away from this village. Then, onward to the Gumdrop Marshes. Quite tricky, those marshes. As for the remainder of the way, you will go through Gingronia Forest. That should take you directly to the palace."

"We'll also have to go on a boat to get to the palace. There's a moat," Peter brought up.

When wasn't there a moat around any kind of castle? This would be a pain. Ugh, so typical!

Clara cleared her throat. "OK. This won't be hard at all. Cake."

"Yeah, that would be nice right about now. Some caramel drizzle on top. The palace chefs have always been top-notch."

She elbowed Peter in the ribs. "Stop it. You're making me hungry. And...Here's a curveball...How do you know about palace chefs? And it's your home?"

A flush of pink appeared under his crimson painted cheeks. "Uh...I'm a servant."

With the same Mona Lisa smile, Melina glanced over at her. "He will tell you the truth when he is ready."

Actually, Clara experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach over not telling Peter what she knew sooner. Her knowledge and love of the ballet would spoil everything, maybe upset him. And she couldn't afford to have him resentful toward her throughout their whole journey. Not to mention she'd settled on liking the guy, so now she wanted more than anything for him to trust her. If they made camp or stayed over at a villager's house tonight, she would tell him. The whole long and short of it.

Cutting into her thoughts, Melina said one last thing, "You have three days starting tomorrow. I hope that both of you do well. I wish you luck."

She left them with those sincere parting words, stepping onto her idyllic chariot. The six pearl white winged unicorns spread their glorious wings and lifted the chariot and Melina into the air. The two of them watched it go further and further away until neither one of them could see it any more. So much magic surrounded them, Clara realized.

She remained where she stood, frozen to the spot as she admired the sky where those unicorns flew. Utterly, entirely, she was spellbound. Once her eyes searched and landed on Peter, he seemed quite grim. Pained.

Clara couldn't say she blamed the guy. If anything, she understood and sympathized with him. A banished prince trying to redeem himself, wasn't that what his story was? Maybe not banished, though, but pushed out of favor and out of his home. She had half a mind to approach him and wrap her arms around him. But, the other half of her mind rejected the idea. He could be irritated by her pity, like any proud man.

"It'll be OK. We'll kick Mozzarella in the place where the sun don't shine and get rid of him for good. Trust me."

He sent her a look that stopped her heart for some inexplicable reason. "I already have."

Which made her so happy yet so crushingly guilty.

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><p><strong>AN: I was actually thinking "Welcome...to Jurassic Park" when I had Peter say "Welcome...to Marzipania." And I haven't even seen all that movie, just the first forty-five minutes of it. I'm hard-pressed to watch action movies.**

**For Melina, I originally was going to characterize her after Glinda from Wizard of Oz or even Belle. I'm so glad I didn't and that she ended up coming out as this Galadrial-esque character. And I love Lord of the Rings, so maybe that's why. As for Peter's liking to Clara, well, when she talked to him when he was a toy (treating him like an actual person in other words), that made an impression on him. Granted, it's not always going to be hunky-dory between them.**

**One more quick, random note. I've started watching The Nutcracker Prince (a movie I've missed out on childhood) on Youtube and I love it so far! They don't make kid flicks like they used to...**


	5. Time to Tell the Truth

**A/N: OK, so here's my spin on how Peter (the nutcracker) got the curse he did. As you've noticed last chapter, he's not that great at keeping secrets. In fact, one way or another, the truth can sometimes accidentally come out of him. A little bit of this is in this chapter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Time to Tell the Truth<strong>

Recovering from the warm response she got from him, Clara struggled to breathe normally when Peter gently grabbed a hold of her arm. "Let's go. I'll show you around this village. It's familiar to me."

From what she could detect in the tone of his voice, she knew she could be convinced of anything he told her. She nodded, promptly following along.

On the way toward the village, he regained his humor. "Hopefully, you can keep up on our quest. I'd hate to have to save you from falling boulders and snakes."

Clara clicked her tongue. "Really? Oh God, Uncle Josh should have just given Fred that _Call __of __Duty_game he wanted instead of you."

In an overdramatic fashion, Peter gripped at his broad chest with those wooden hands. "Ouch! Why do you keep hurting me, Clara? I don't get what you mean. What's _Call __of __Duty_?"

"This violent video game that involves soldiers going to war and stuff. I don't really know that much about those games. Anyway, Mom doesn't want Fred to play them, because she thinks he'll get all bloodthirsty."

"Huh." Peter paused mid-step. "What a strange world you live in."

"And yours is like friggin' _Candyland_. At least it isn't as sickeningly sweet."

To Marzipania's credit, it was far superior to that board game she'd always hated.

As they walked the main pathway that divided the village in half and led to an unusually deserted town square, she could see the people peek out at them through their windows. A few of them ventured outside, automatically recognizing Peter through whoops and cheers. Even a couple kids waved at him, toddlers who yelled, "Nutcwaker, nutcwaker!" in absolute ecstasy.

Who knew he was so popular? Though all the excitement was directed toward him, Clara couldn't help but feel her heart warm toward these humble villagers. They obviously adored him for being their guard, their protector. What made her deflate a little, though, was that she noticed Peter force his grins.

He even shook his head when one woman came up to him with a cloth bag filled presumably with food. Smells of fresh bread and dried meat filled Clara's nostrils. Meantime, he earnestly put forth his efforts to decline the food.

"Your family will need it more, m'am. Honestly."

His words were ignored as she tossed the sack to the ground. "Yes, well, whatever you won't eat, I'm sure your girlfriend will."

The vague pink blush returned to his cheeks when he replied, "She's not my girlfriend," at the same time Clara insisted, "He's not my boyfriend."

Chuckling, the woman lightly said, "My mistake. But, the food is yours. I have plenty more in storage. I will be fine, brave nutcracker."

Peter's forced smile didn't so much as flit across his lipless mouth this time. "Yeah. Yeah, I hope so. I hope everyone'll be all right."

Her expression darkened. "Until that lazy oaf of a prince shows up to reveal his cowardly face, we'll manage. For, haven't we all these past two years?"

She retreated back to her dwelling. Now, it was clearer than ever how deeply his pain cut him, from what Clara observed. He bowed his (at the moment) white-haired head in shame, hands clenching into fists.

Sensing her heart breaking for him (for she knew the allegedly secret truth that Melina had spoken of), Clara reached out to touch his shoulder. "Hey, Peter, don't worry about her. She gave us food."

"How can I be brave while the prince is _lazy _and a _coward_, apparently? What a contra—" He spotted her brows furrowing—"God, I hate my big mouth."

"The sooner we find someplace to rest," Clara assured in a firm tone. "The sooner I can tell you what I...uh...know. OK?"

Completely silent, he nodded, an action that concerned her in all its silence.

What increased her anxiety over him was that he continued to guide her past several more cookie houses that ranged from peanut butter to chocolate chip. And, oddly enough, some had vegetable gardens and two residences even contained fruit tree orchards. It took all the inner will-power she had not to stop and linger at any one house to stare at it.

Peter's long, steady strides proved that he was in no mood to stay in this village. Indeed, she noticed the heavily defined frown that touched his face, his green eyes taking on a distant glaze. She released an inaudible sigh in witnessing him under so much emotional torment. She wished that there was something she could do to alleviate his anguish.

They kept walking until they arrived at a spot not too far away from a patch of woods though a little way from the small town. By then, the sun began to set, a ball of red in the sky. Clara wondered if this was the same sun that she would see back home.

"So, Clara, you said you needed to tell me something?" Peter gave her a questioning glance while settling down on the ground.

"Yeah."

Another silence. Her hands shook from the nervousness to be directly honest with him.

However, she soon had more of a hold on her composure when she told him, "I kind of, sort of...know your story."

Peter was about to protest, but she shook her head. "I'm not a spy or anything, so you can relax. I just mean...Well, back home, there's this ballet called _The __Nutcracker_. It's your story, in a way, but set in the old days. When I was a kid, I was a huge fan. I had no idea any of this crap would happen to me."

"So you know I'm cursed," he whispered, pure agony resonating.

Self-consciously, she rubbed one of her arms. "Basically."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he interrogated, raising his voice angrily.

"Because I knew you'd react like this! Hey, thanks for proving me right, Pete."

Considerably miffed herself that he yelled at her, Clara restlessly stood up, her brown eyes aflame.

Embarrassed, Peter cast his eyes down. "Sorry."

"You should be!"

"I know, but you should have told me when you mentioned that Chicough...that Chicough...that Chicoughalongadingdong guy!"

"You would have been pissed." She put her hands on her hips.

"Would _you _have been this defensive?"

She sat back down. "Shut up. Just shut up, Peter. And you can go ahead and do the silent treatment on me...because I deserve you hating me."

As much as she despised sulking, since it made her feel like she traveled back in time to when she was six, she currently did. Crossing her arms about her slightly curled-up legs, she leaned her head against her knees.

"I'd understand. I broke your trust. Sorry."

Oh no, she was getting..._vulnerable_, that one word that filled her with dread. If she started crying, Clara would hit herself until she gave herself a black eye. Because, then, she would stop respecting herself if she let hormones get in the way.

Much to her surprise, though, she heard the crunching of sugar snow under a certain pair of boots before Peter sat down next to her. How could he forgive her this instantly? Even she was staying mad at herself longer than she should. Then again, he came from this candy covered world. Of course, people were going to behave differently here than in America. Or even her world for that matter. Reluctantly, she turned her eyes toward him. Now that she thought about it, it was so weird that he didn't have that goatee über traditional nutcrackers had. He was incredibly unusual in every way from what she could tell.

_But_, she thought with a smile, _he __does __have __the __funny-looking __stache._

He smiled back. "It's all right. And I don't hate you, Clara. I could never hate you."

She sighed contently. Peter could never hate her, like he sincerely proclaimed to her, and that was balm for her soul. He had proven himself as an officially secure confidant and a great friend with a heart of gold. Funny, how the longer you spent time with a perfect stranger, the more their true nature was exposed. This was all happening with her and Peter in a matter of a couple hours!

"I may know that you're a cursed prince from the ballet, but _how _did it happen? Or is it too much too soon?" Clara asked near shyly, for she was aware that their friendship blossomed at full speed ahead. She had to be more cautious, or else she just might fall for him. Care had to be distributed generously here.

In an extremely subtle way, he shook his head half an inch. "No, it isn't. I think I can relax around you. It's not an easy story to tell from memory, though. Especially since the only one I can blame...is myself."

Whoa, whoa, whoa, his depth became prominent to the extent that she scooted back. A major dose of reality was about to take over Candyland. She better fasten her seatbelt.

"So, Mozzarella and I...We go way back. Back to when I was twelve, and my father took him on as chief advisor. That greedy rat climbed up the ladder fast.

"And see, this was a time when the people of my kingdom and the rats from Cheddarique"—here, he stopped when she snorted—"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but the two kingdoms used to be on fairly close terms. In fact, my dad wanted to form an alliance with them, so my whole world would be peaceful. I mean, there was once a time when the rats were legitimately good, probably because the mice who lived there too were positively influential."

Suppressing a grin, Clara murmured, "This is getting seriously trippy."

Peter shrugged. "That's my world for you. Though the Mozzarella you saw seemed bumbling and stupid, it's probably an act. When he was an advisor at Marzipania Palace, he was very intelligent. He knew many spells but could also come up with these ideas that benefited the kingdom."

He paused again to take a breath, and then continuing, "However, Ole Mozzy wanted to start something. He built up a rat army in secret. He told my dad King Timothy 'inside information' from his homeland that wasn't even true. Deep down, he resented my father for having such a prosperous kingdom while Cheddarique was going to crap."

"Why? What was up with Cheddarique?" Clara was enthralled with the story.

"The rats fought with the mice, so Mozzarella blamed that on our family as well. He wanted war to get revenge. He was a double agent, a traitor all along."

He laughed bitterly. "Meanwhile, I was being an irresponsible brat."

Clara involuntarily flinched at hearing how sharp the bitterness in his laughter was. It was the kind of bitterness that meant wave upon wave of sorrow for the particular sufferer. Peter acted like it was a sin to have some character flaws or whatever imperfections he struggled through. He was too hard on himself.

"How so?" She shuddered to inquire.

At that point, he forced his face to be virtually expressionless, which wasn't hard to do. Wood wasn't exactly flexible. "I would try to escape the palace at night. I did the cloth rope trick and everything. I was a holy terror to my mom and dad."

He smiled wanly. "When I did get out of the palace, I would actually go to this same village with my best friend Lewis. He worked as a servant at the palace, and this was where he originally came from. We would visit his family or participate in the festivities if there were any at the time. I remember one time, I drank so much mead that I could barely stand. Lewis had to help me with walking."

Though she tried holding back, Clara giggled at this mental image. "I couldn't imagine. You drunk. That's hilarious."

"I guess it is. It was my way of rebelling." The smile Peter wore faded. "I wanted nothing to do with royal life. Not really. I didn't really like the exclusiveness of it. All I did with the villagers outside of festivals was smile and wave at them."

Clara's hands inched closer to his until their hands were inches apart. "I guess since there wasn't a whole lot of interaction between you and a whole lot of people, you were lonely."

"I was," he acknowledged. "To this day, I've never been with a girl. The only reason I had Lewis was because he's my age."

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Eighteen."

"Oh." Studying him, she tried to imagine what that would be like. Eighteen. And having to be ready for the future in being responsible for a whole kingdom. Eighteen, and being trapped in a body that's not your own. That had to suck.

"I never did what I was told. I think it was that...Like that woman said, I was too much of a coward to be king. To even be ready for becoming king. I didn't think I was good enough, so I'd pull pranks. I slept through lessons with my tutor. Sometimes, I wonder if maybe I should have grown up more."

At the same time, he should have been allowed to be a kid. His parents might not have done a thoroughly good job of letting him blow off some steam. They'd expected too much of him at so young an age.

"In the end, my stupidity ended up costing the palace and the kingdom," she heard his sad voice drift back. "Dear old Mozzy apparently thought I was the perfect candidate to make an example out of. After all, I was lazy at times, definitely a lousy prince most of the time. So, he cast this powerful curse on me as soon as I was on to him. I always knew Dad trusted him too much.

"One night, I dared Mozzarella to a duel, and at least I excelled in my fighting training. The damn coward came up to me and before I could even grab the hilt of my sword, he used his wand to cast the curse. Of course, I'm not supposed to tell you how to break it, since I'm physically unable to. After I got cursed, he forced me out of the castle with his army and then put my parents in exile."

Afterwards, he must have felt the weight of the collection of mistakes on his shoulders. How much blame did he place on himself?

"They're in exile in the Sugar Plum Isles somewhere," he answered another unspoken question for her. "Not too far away from Melina, so at least they're safe. All I could do was defend the kingdom to the best of my ability. In my travels, though, it was becoming the same thing. For instance, trading days on Wednesdays were revoked by the Mouse King himself. Because that was what he was after, see. The crown. He thought he could do better. As if he could! The kingdom got worse under his control. I had had to chase out entire bands of rats who acted as guards over the villages."

"So, why were trading days banned? And by becoming the same thing, you mean...you mean...uh, what?"

"Hunger," Peter said softly, depressingly. "Trading days were when other countries' or other villages' merchants would trade food, valuables, and other stuff. However, one trader brought weapons to stir people up for a rebellion. As soon as Mozz got wind of that, well, you could only expect that it was put to a stop. Everyone's had to grow their own food since. The hunger problem isn't terrible yet, but it will be. Around six months ago, I led other soldiers to battle Mozzarella, to put a stop to his tyranny.

"Turned out, he didn't want to fight me yet again and created this portal that sent me to an antiques store in your world. Obviously, I've been missed...as the nutcracker. As the prince, I'm despised. I was more adored as that war hero nutcracker who led both tin and human soldiers to battle. I guess it makes sense. Who'd want me to be human again anyway?"

Peter sighed, cupping his cheek with his hand that Clara promptly removed. "I would. But only because I know you'd want that, too. And if the people don't accept you after that, I'll make them."

He chuckled dryly. "I'll keep that in mind. Good night, Clara."

"Night, Peter. Get some sleep. And you can forget about that _Call __of __Duty _comment I made earlier."

With that, both of them decided to retire for the night.

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><p><strong>AN: It's true. I don't know much about Call of Duty nor do I wish to. After all, I'm not up for war video games. Not my thing. Anyway, I don't have much else to say either.**

**Other than review. But, I don't like to ask that of people too much. Especially with this story, I'm sounding pretty excessive when it comes to that. Oh, next chapter, a new character will be introduced. I think you'll like her.**


	6. The Rogue Snowflake

**A/N: All right, wow, this story is gaining in hits. Thank you, anybody who's reading this. It makes me feel good that I can write a holiday story that people are enjoying. I don't know about you guys, but I'm on X-mas break now, so I'll have pleny of time to update. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: The Rogue Snowflake<strong>

She was awoken the next morning by sugar being thrown in her face and that, of course, got into her mouth. Her eyes shot open as she coughed out the powder. Clara's eyes moved to the joking, grinning face of her new nutcracker friend. With how much personal information he painstakingly divulged last night, he was a not-so-new friend. If anything, hopefully, this had gotten them closer together.

For now, though, she wasn't feeling particularly cuddly. "Peter!"

Holding back his oversized wooden head, he laughed. "Good morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty. The sun is up, so we might as well get going."

The sun was just up? That meant the sun had risen around five o'clock. At least that would be the case in Oregon. Well, that was just peachy, wasn't it? On a normal school day, Clara could barely wake up around 7:15 in the morning. Any earlier than that would be total torture.

For a bit of revenge, she grabbed a handful of sugar and managed to turn it into a compact snowball. Apparently, the magical sugar snow didn't sift as much through her fingers as regular sugar did. It was like what she had concluded before: anything and everything was possible in Marzipania.

With a gleeful smirk on her face, Clara waited until the exact moment when Peter's back was turned to throw the snowball. Luckily, it hit his back, the bull's eye of the target. Suspiciously, he looked over his shoulder and saw his rival standing there, pretending to be innocent. But, he knew better.

"Ah, so it was you. Should have known. I'll get you."

Peter crafted a snowball of his own, but when he threw it, she dodged out of the way. And so, a full-fledged fight commenced. At one point, Peter chased her around with a snowball, and she threw practically a wall of sugar at him. She couldn't help but giggle at how much fun she was having. What was this brilliant Christmas adventure without an old-fashioned snowball fight?

"Ha, got you!" he shouted when he hit Clara who did an awkward cartwheel back. She hurled answering snowballs that proved she wasn't quite finished yet, resoling to steal his approach of chasing. With three more snowballs, she got him before she tackled him to the ground.

He let out a grunt as he fell to the sugar snow with her following suit. Despite how she thought he might react, he didn't seem overly irritated. No, if anything, he chuckled lowly out of amusement, and Clara found herself closing her eyes. It was like the sweetest music, his laughter. It offered pleasure for her. When she opened her eyes, she met the steady gaze of those entrancing emerald ones.

Now that she had a more up-close look at them, she could spot a hint of turquoise blue among all that green.

Evening out his heavy breathing, Peter mentioned, "I haven't had that much fun in years. Thank you."

She played with the silver buttons of his coat. "Um...You're welcome."

"You have nice eyes," he complimented, tilting his head to the side.

An awkward silence, mostly on her part, followed. Her cheeks had that burning heat of a blush. She debated within herself whether or not she would admit how pretty she thought his eyes were.

Sitting up from him due to this silence that threatened to choke her, Clara made up her mind. "Thanks. Your eyes are pretty to look at, too."

Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his neck coyly. "Even if the rest of me isn't."

That self-deprecating remark of his sent her stomach sinking. Though she was beginning to fully know him (maybe she could say she already had), she sensed that he was a self-loathing individual. Whatever pride he had in himself two years ago had completely evaporated.

She grasped one of his hands in hers. "I don't care about that. You're a great friend."

"I can say the same about you," he playfully whispered in her ear.

"Well, let's get going." Clara sprung to her feet before her stomach grumbled. "After breakfast."

"Oh yeah, about that." Peter procured another cloth bag, though it was much smaller than the other one that now had missing portions from the night before. "The people of this village will do anything for their war hero. Whatever he needs, they'll give to him. Better to be this ugly guy than the prince, I think."

"Stop it." She gritted her teeth. "Before, you were acting like my little brother. Now, you keep saying you're ugly. I'm not listening to that."

"Blueberry muffin?" He offered her the treat.

"Oh hell yes." Her mouth watered, so she practically leapt at it.

Amused by her enthusiasm, Peter smiled, and then took out an egg. With his large nutcracker mouth, he cracked the shell, drinking its contents. Upon seeing this rather grotesque display, Clara wrinkled her nose.

"Dude, that's disgusting."

"I can't eat normally. Sorry. Be happy you're not in this situation."

She smirked. "Believe me, I am. I'd hate to have my mouth like that."

While they companionably dined together, they talked...Only this time, they talked more about her.

Clara described what her life was like shortly before the night she'd first met him. "It was boring. My parents both work these days, so I barely get to see them. All Fred does is play video games, play sports, and be popular."

"Hm." Peter cracked open another egg. "Sounds like you have a lot of time to yourself. And maybe...This is gonna sound weird, but are you jealous of your brother?"

"Jealous?" she scoffed. "Me, jealous? Ha! Well...Maybe I am, a little. He does seem to get more attention. As the big sister, you'd think I would get more but no. My parents didn't even come to one of my chorus concerts in eighth grade, because it was on the same night as Fred's game. League game but still."

"I bet they love you the same as Fred, though," he assured her kindly.

Finishing off the rest of her muffin, she admitted, "I s'pose so. But, I haven't been in chorus since because why bother? Fred's basketball and soccer games are apparently more exciting. I can't compete with him."

"It's not about competing. Your parents love you, too."

"How do you know, Mr. I'm an Only Child?"

Peter reached over to pat her hand. "Just appreciate them while you're still living with them. I know I miss my parents, and I took them for granted."

"Yeah. I must sound like a whiner."

He grinned. "Maybe, but not as bad as some of the girls I've heard. Like certain princesses I've had to dance with in the past. Ugh, you wouldn't believe the things that would come out of their mouths..."

They exchanged laughing yet knowing glances that made her feel a bit better about herself. After all, she had taken herself too seriously all along. Fred might participate 110% in the two sports he did and liked most, but her parents praised for having a phenomenal singing voice. They weren't being overly doting when it came to that compliment either. The chorus teacher had often given her the meaty solo parts. How come she ever stopped? If she loved it and did exceptionally well at it too, why should she have dreamed of giving it up?

"Peter...Wow, I should've known that you would have more of a clue about—"

"No, no, no...NO!" A shrill soprano voice that sounded like it belonged to an infuriated girl cut through the birds singing. Peter was halfway through his third egg and ended up dropping it. In the process, he managed to spill the clear, sticky yolk all over himself.

"Great...Great, that was a waste of protein right there. Crazy girl has to go screaming about the place. If I have no energy later, I'll know who to—Clara, why are you grabbing me?"

"I think we might find someone who can help us," she explained quickly. "Don't ask me why. Woman's intuition and all."

"O...K, but this better be good. Otherwise, there's no point."

Fortunately for them, they were able to follow the source of the shouting. The unbelievably angry young woman with the healthy pair of lungs kept screaming like there was no tomorrow. Whenever there was a pause, some other girl must have upset her for she yelled something like, "Jessalyn, that's _not _how you do that turn, and you know it!"

"I can't wait to put a stop to whatever bull is going on over yonder," Clara commented when they got real close. About five feet away, and they'd come across the girl. Peter stiffly nodded.

"Sure, but I just hate coming across angry women. They're dangerous."

She playfully slapped him on the shoulder, pretending to be offended. "Then don't make me angry, Peter. I've been prone to picking up sharp, pointy objects."

"As long as you don't play with anyone else with them, it's all good."

They then reached a spot close to the village, near enough so that they could see the delectable cookie houses again. Though not fairies, these common village girls were decked out in glittery light blue ballerina outfits. On top of their heads, silver tiaras glinted in the sunlight. One imperious redheaded girl paced back and forth in front of a row of four others who practiced dance moves.

However, the fifth girl sat rather than stood apart from the other members of this clique, a focused expression on her face as she sharpened a katana with a rock. Like her tiara, the blade gleamed in the light but with a more menacing edge. Another katana lay idle in a sling on her back.

"That's like that one Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle with the swords on his back," Clara whispered to Peter, who disbelievingly shook his head.

Just at that moment, the redhead turned her heel sharply toward the fierce-looking black-haired girl. "Satina, why aren't you dancing? Satina!"

The katana sharpener glanced up from her work and deadpanned, "Because it's stupid."

"It's stupid," the redhead repeated disapprovingly. "Do you hear that, girls? Apparently, Satina isn't a team player. Apparently, she wants us to fail in five days when we perform for Melina! The snowflake act is the most important of our lives."

Despite what was supposed to be a stirring speech, the other girls blankly stared at her. Judging by their faces, they seemed to agree more with Satina, who exuded this charisma.

Deadpan again, she told the redhead, "Quit being so overdramatic, Rosaline. It's not helping anyone. Am I right, girls?"

Tired of Rosaline herding them like sheep since five in the morning, they simultaneously nodded. Rosaline screamed in rage.

"Just like Ole Mozz," Peter murmured, which caused Clara to crack up laughing.

"The pliés, the jetés, the sur les pointes, most of the five positions—!"

Satina held up her hand. "Shut up, Rosaline."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me to shut up, you lazy girl! You've only contributed to practice two days out of the past week! Which I don't understand, considering you're a bit fairly adequate and—!"

"I said...shut up!"

Abruptly, Satina took out a kunai from a pouch on the dark brown leather belt fastened around her waist. She carefully aimed before hurling it toward Rosaline's tiara. The small dagger came at the redhead so fast that she didn't even have time to duck and cover. It pierced the metal (well, metal-ish) material of her tiara and carried it to a nearby tree, where it stuck. Rosaline instantly paled ten shades.

"I-I...Y-You h-have the n-nerve to—"

"Practice is over for today, guys," Satina announced, and there was no telling the rest of the girls twice. They practiced their jetés as they retreated.

A complacent smirk settled onto the dark-haired girl's lips as she turned toward her rival. "You heard me, Rosaline. You deserve the rest of the day off. I practice on my own time and don't follow _anyone__'__s_ orders. Understand?"

"Fine, Satina," she sniffed loudly, very much displeased. "You just better get your act together. And soon."

As Rosaline stormed back toward the village, Clara pointed out, "We've got to have her along. Did you see how fast she threw that kunai?"

"So that's what it's called," he stated instead of questioned.

She scratched the back of her head. "Uh, I watched a whole lot of anime."

"OK, I agree with you. She seems to be really expert with her aiming, too. I'm impressed. Let's see if she's interested." Peter walked over toward Satina first with Clara following. She was busying herself with gently removing her kunai from the tree and then taking it out of the tiara.

"I can't believe I wasted a kunai over that crazy girl. Yeesh...Oh. You're the Nutcracker."

He bowed mockingly. "The Nutcracker of legend. This is my friend Clara. She saved me from the Mouse King when he was about to kill me."

Clara groaned, "You really are nutty, you know. I just threw a slipper at him."

"That still ought to make you popular." Satina turned toward her, giving her an appraising, somewhat bemused stare. "Anyone who has proven themselves loyal to the Nutcracker is beloved virtually everywhere. He is very much respected here."

"And the prince can go to the fiery place," Peter sighed, probably expecting this girl to empathize with that statement.

Rather, a line furrowed deep in her forehead. "I disagree, Nutcracker. He was a teenager when he disappeared. It would be difficult to grapple with so much responsibility at his age. I don't get why people expect him to be such a miracle worker. He isn't."

"Exactly!" Peter agreed fervently to the extent that it reminded Clara of an earnest little boy. "I mean, they don't even know the full story about me—I mean, him...oops."

Too late. Satina's eyes widened. "You're the prince?"

"Yeah, see, that's the kicker...," he trailed off, inwardly cursing that mouth of his that never stopped moving at the right time. Who knew if she wished to join their emerging expedition party or not?

What a relief that Clara took the reins from there. "Yeah, he's the prince. So, he's been pretty busy over the past year and a half. He was in my world for the last six months."

Still, Peter felt inclined to elbow her in the ribs. "Why not just tell my life story to her, Clara? Go ahead. I was born in front of six witnesses. Mom, Dad, Vivian the midwife, and three courtiers. And believe me, I've always hated those courtiers, always telling me what to do."

"First of all, ow! Second, we haven't even gotten a response from her yet. Will you help us on our way to defeating Mozzarella, Rat not Mouse King?"

Satina politely curtseyed to them both. "To serve my kingdom, yes. Besides, it's about time I got in on some action."

"Oh," she added as an afterthought. "I will need to gather supplies. My family has all sorts of canteens and flasks in storage. I will return in ten minutes, don't worry."

Clara gave Peter an "I told you so" glance that caused him to roll his eyes. "I get your point. I guess some people like me after all."

"Who wouldn't? You're brave, and you've proven it many times in the past."

He considered her flattery toward him with a smile. "You give me a lot of credit."

True to her word, within ten minutes, Satina came back with plenty of supplies. What Clara and Peter found odd, though, was she hadn't changed clothes.

When asked about this, Satina responded with, "I feel like I would move around better if I'm fighting in this girly outfit."

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><p><strong>AN: Satina is a name I just made up. But, she's a bit kick-ass, wouldn't you say? I love kick-ass female characters, so that's why I decided to write her in there. And she plays a bigger role than I initially was going to have her play. And I found it funny that I would make these snowflakes not be fairies but actual girls getting ready to dance in a ballet. So, it's a ballet within a ballet, so to speak. XD**

**This story, I KNOW, is going to get a heck of a lot more interesting now. You guys are coming to this story at the right time.**


	7. Journey through the Caverns

**A/N: OK, hopefully, you guys are all on your breaks by now. I realize that updating on Tuesday might not have been the smartest idea, but I've had plenty of time to update. Here's today's chapter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: Journey through the Caverns<strong>

"I like to hunt," Satina said eagerly, her cheeks flushed from remotely mentioning this as she tossed her black braid over her shoulder. "That's why I use these katanas and kunai. I practiced with them when I was younger. It's a good thing I did. In a house of all girls for children, I'm the one who Dad takes along. There's something about the spirit of the chase. It gets me invigorated."

"But, Bambi...And Bambi's mom, poor Bambi's mom!" Clara moaned, though wasn't entirely serious. It wasn't like she didn't support hunting, just wasn't a huge fan. She knew of many hunter kids at her school. She did live in Oregon after all, practically smack dab in the middle of the woods.

If this was all a dream, it made perfect sense that the whole element of hunter kids would work its way in.

Of course, once again, no one got her references. "Who?"

"Tell me why you guys don't have a movie theater. Or TVs. Or Netflix. Oh, forget it. Next time I make a weird Earth reference, just hit me."

Peter chuckled. "Then, it's been about four times, hasn't it? I need to catch up."

"Are you two, you know, together? As in more than friends?" Satina inquired curiously, her gray eyes lit up with interest.

"No!" the two suspected lovers defiantly shouted.

In spite of their denials, blushes could give so much away. Identical splotches of pink blemished their faces.

Satina, with her sharp huntress' eye, noticed straight away. "OK, whatever you say. Though this doesn't mean I buy your denial. In fact, it only convinces me more. It's inevitable, you two."

"Inevitable? This isn't a fairy tale, Satina," Peter said firmly, causing the corner of Clara's mouth to twitch. Oh, this was a fairy tale all right, more than he realized. Somehow, she wanted to convince him. Oh well, until then, they had to concentrate on their quest to get rid of Mozzarella. Nothing else mattered.

At the moment, they trekked in the middle of the woods that this village was close to in order to get to the Candy-Coated Caverns. Satina was their guide, since she had an extensive amount of experience wandering here, and she'd led them to a creek earlier to fill their canteens. She often killed deer, rabbits, and even squirrels as a part of providing for her family. Along with her hunting skill, she knew the names of plants and berries. Then again, so did Peter, but her knowledge was wider.

She boasted of killing a wolf once. "It's a very rare find, but this was after the banning of trading days. We're a family of five, so we hadn't had a proper dinner in days. No meat. Even though wolf meat isn't exactly desirable, it's better than nothing. Thanks to me, we had enough to eat for days."

"You must have all sorts of interesting stories to tell," Clara brought up, stepping over a fallen tree branch. Otherwise, the sugar snows appeared pristine, even out in the middle of nowhere.

"There're many stories I can tell. In fact, one I'll tell you both later—not now—is about how I came to be in this stupid production I'm in."

"The dance of the snowflakes Melina has every year?" Peter asked.

"Yes, along with around fifty other nonsense dances. Like I said, I'll tell you all about how I got lumped into that mess later. I think we're close now."

Indeed, just ten feet away appeared to be an opening, an entrance for something bigger on the inside.

"That was fast." Peter reeled from how little time had passed between when they'd started out and when they'd arrived to the first obstacle they had to overcome. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too hard. Clara worried that if she didn't get home soon, her parents would start posting "missing girl" flyers.

Satina smiled lightly. "Well, what kind of guide would I be if I didn't know any shortcuts? I know these woods like the back of my hand."

Before they stepped through the cavern entrance, Peter pointed out that he spotted berry bushes. Sure enough, these were what he called clingberries, so named because they clung to the thorny bushes.

That intimidated Clara, who, contrary to what she said earlier, hated sharp, pointy objects. At least thorns and needles if nothing else. When Peter offered her one of the purple berries, she took it as a sample. The overflowing juices of it made her crave more, but she knew not to be a wasteful pig. When it came to the standard epic adventure, one had to ensure there would be rationing about. Constant rationing. In the meantime, Satina just killed a rabbit.

"Might as well since we won't be back here," she sensibly told them with a nonchalant shrug.

Clara struggled not to pass out from the steely smell of blood. She wished she wasn't such a wuss, but this was such a culture shock. How else would she react? Nonetheless, she gained a hold of her wits and turned away when Satina started the skinning process. In ten minutes, she was finished, but Peter got impatient.

"We're on a bit of a tight schedule, to be honest. If we don't hurry up, the rat will try to kill us as soon as our backs are turned. He's a dirty fighter like that."

Satina stuck out her tongue at him but complied by putting the rabbit in yet another cloth bag she brought along. So, the total cloth bag count was now four. Two Clara carried and the other two Satina carried. She was very particular about separating the animals she planned on hunting (if she would get any more) from the rest of the rations. Her main concern was that animal blood might spread to, for example, the tasty wheat bread.

With supply priorities set in order, the expedition trio ventured into the caverns. Surprisingly, Clara discovered there wasn't the persistent _drip,__drip_ there would be in a normal cave. Furthermore, its material wasn't even rock. Instead, it was something quite odd.

"Spun sugar. Wow. I thought it broke easily. Oh well, when in doubt, assume the thing's enchanted," Clara came up with a quote she thought fit the world of Marzipania perfectly. Sugar was way more compact here, and the unicorns could fly. What kind of bizarre twist would she run into next?

"You must know a whole lot about candy," Peter commented, intrigued.

"Food Network taught me everything I know. Oops, random Earth reference! Feel free to hit me now."

"Not hit." He smiled broadly. "How about a pinch instead?"

Taking her forearm, he used two wooden fingers and softly pinched her skin. Not even a hard, painful prick but a gentle one. She knew it; he had a soft side.

Gazing up kindly into his eyes, she in turn pinched the cloth of his sleeve with the same amount of pressure. She stroked the rich fabric lightly with her fingers as her hand lowered so that it was next to his.

"Flirting with me?" His voice resonated in no louder than a whisper.

Lifting her eyes up to the sugary ceiling, she half-smiled. "Oh God...You know what? I think I actually might be. I don't usually do that with guys, just ignore them."

"Guess you can't ignore me, huh?"

Their fingers interlocked, though Clara almost longed for the warm touch of real ones.

"Hm, well, now that you lovebirds are done flirting, I suggest that we continue on. Oh, and to tread carefully, too. I heard a great and terrible beast lives here," Satina gravely informed them, keeping a hand on the hilt of one of the katanas on her back.

"That's just a myth," Peter said dismissively, and Clara realized that he still had his fingers entwined with hers. She hesitantly shook them off.

She looked on ahead toward further in the cave. "I don't know. I doubt Melina would think our journey is that easy. There's got to be some tough stuff."

"Well, fairies aren't good with details," he reasoned. "The smart ones only give out advice."

To make light out of this suddenly dark situation, Clara said in an all-knowing tone, "Your horoscope for today is..."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Better than that, I would hope."

"I thought it was funny, Clara." Satina then proceeded to stick her tongue out at him again.

"Will you stop that?"

"Come on, guys," Clara nearly ordered in a steady, unfaltering voice. "Time to get serious. If there is a monster like Satina says there is, let's just go."

No more words passed among the three of them as they proceeded further. The spun sugar in this cave was beautiful and came in all sorts of colors.

_This __is __what __being __inside __a __rainbow __must __be __like_, Clara idly thought to herself while she walked along. Maybe she wouldn't come back home. But, whoa, that would add to the Alice in Wonderland complex. And that pushed on the Wendy in Neverland complex (to a degree), pushing on the Dorothy in Oz complex.

However, before Oz and Neverland, there was the Clara in the Land of Sweets complex. That was one too many complexes to keep vigilant track of. For the time being, she paid more attention to where she stepped.

Purple bits of spun sugar, teal, midnight blue, lime green, lemon yellow, crimson—these shades blended together. This was an eye-catching place. It would almost be a shame to engage in combat with some big lummox beast in these parts. She would be destroying the attractiveness.

After fifteen minutes of walking straight on, they reached a fork in the cave. Figures. There always had to be a diverging path somewhere.

"I would make a _Lord __of __the __Rings_ reference, but that would just prove I'm too big on movies and need to get a life," Clara said amusedly.

"You're already having one. Isn't this one big adventure?" Peter asked.

"An adventure that will end in our deaths unless you're _quiet_," Satina admonished them.

She studied Satina by peering through her tangled mess of chestnut brown hair. From the overly cautious look in her eyes and the stiffness in her increasingly taut muscles, she quietly showed fear. Yet, her voice hadn't once wavered nor did she fidget too much. Clearly, she was made of much stronger stuff, despite the delicate ballerina outfit she wore. That was the only thing flowery about her. Clara had to respect that toughness, that bravado of shoving aside inner trepidation.

"Well, we haven't even heard it yet. Peter's right. It might not be real."

"Told you," he simpered smugly. "Seriously speaking, though, we might as well split up. You two girls take the right. I'll take the left."

"Smart decision, Nu—I mean, Peter. That way, on both paths, there will be at least one of us with a weapon."

"Actually, I based it on not wanting to put up with too many female hormones."

"Hey!" both girls yelled reproachfully, giving him a dirty look before Satina realized her faux pas and went, "Shhh!"

Determined to move forward, Clara tugged the other girl's sleeve. "Let's keep moving."

So, they did as Peter suggested and took the right-hand path in hopes of finding an exit.

Both girls decided to keep a hold on all the supply bags, considering Peter was wooden and food wasn't a necessity to him. It worked out better that way anyway with one less mouth to feed. At the same time, Clara pitied him for missing out on the pleasures of proper human dining. His sustenance had to be whatever kinds of nuts he could find and eggs. So she assumed.

In order to make distracting small talk, Clara asked Satina, "Hey, Satina, what have you heard about the monster that lives in this cave?"

"That he has been around since the time that Marzipania used to be called Land of Sweets." Satina then gulped. "And that he has a taste for...um, human flesh."

Clara looked on straight ahead, forcing a light-hearted grin on her face. "Charming."

She could just picture it. An odd-looking beast with gnashing pointed teeth, claws sharper than butcher knives, devil horns sticking up from his head, and a demented excuse for a lion's mane to top it all off. Oh, and he would howl like a wolf a lot, too. For sure.

"And from what I heard, the resident idiot of my village tried to do battle with the monster long ago. He was never seen again."

"That's because he was an idiot. He might have gotten lost in the cave and never found his way o—"

"No, Clara," Satina somberly cut in. "Someone saw his bones at the cave entrance years after."

These crazy villagers and their freaky stories they used to try to frighten their children. But, Clara found herself gulping like her new friend. Could it be real for a change? Would they get swallowed up before they even thought of appearing at the palace? Well, she had to go by the ballet's plot for reference again. If she did get eaten, it was only virtual reality. Actual reality would be that she would wake up in bed and have that traumatizing image fade from her memory.

Time to change the subject. "Why did you end up being a snowflake?"

A confused expression passed her face before she murmured, "Oh yeah, that idiocy."

Satina went on to elaborate. "Every year, Melina selects a village that has its girls dress as snowflakes for the snowflake act. Melina loves ballets, so of course, that's what this is. Other performers, adults, are active in it, too. As to how I got picked, well, I can gladly blame it on my mom. She wanted me in it so I could be more 'feminine.' But, I like hunting not ballet. It's awful."

"What about your sisters?"

Satina's lower lip jutted out. "Too young. One is seven, and the other is eleven. The girls must be fourteen and up. God knows why."

Probably because teenage girls would get more of a handle on what they were doing. That was a smart move on Melina's part. Then again, since she'd met face-to-face with the comely Sugar Plum Fairy, she could say that she seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. In a fantasy world like this, she could easily be four hundred years old and not physically age a day. She wasn't one of those air-headed, constantly happy fairies that played dumb.

Still, able to understand the hatred of being conventionally feminine, Clara patted her on the shoulder. "I'd hate to do that, too. I have no balance on my feet or any grace."

"I'm seventeen years old, and you'd think I could make my own decisions."

Tell her about it. Clara rolled her eyes just thinking about her parents telling her what she could or couldn't do. She had to plan out a visit with Bri before doing it instead of just showing up. And she knew Bri's mom fairly well enough to know the woman wouldn't have cared too much about plans. Visit plans anyway. It was stupid. Her parents were overprotective of her to the point she had no life.

She nodded, compassionately replying, "Yeah, I've been there. And I'm seventeen, too. I guess that's an age when we just don't want to put up with parents."

Satina smiled brightly, cheerful that she had someone to sympathize with.

Food definitely brought people together. That was why Thanksgiving was invented, Clara figured. It was probably an overstated fact. Clara and Satina stopped their walking to snack on some of the dried meat bits and more of a loaf of bread. They conversed in an acquainting sort of way, and Clara discovered that they had many things in common. Like their frustration with their parents and their dislike of being the stereotypical girl along with favorite color (blue) and a favorite activity to do (reading). Satina was made up of everything Clara wished she could be. Tough being the most important trait.

It had all gone so well until they heard Peter yelling, "Guys! I...I think I found him."

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><p><strong>AN: Dundundun! Kind of a predictable cliffhanger, I know. But, hey, the girls could have found the beast rather than Peter. And it's true. I didn't know what spun sugar was until I saw an episode of "Challenge" one day on Food Network. That's a good channel right there.**

**So, I guess that's that for today. See ya later. **


	8. The Beast of Legend

**A/N: All right, so I'm definitely not updating on Christmas. I prefer to take days off on holidays. Makes sense, right? That, and I usually get an awesome video game. Christmas Eve, tomorrow, maybe an update then. I can't wait until the Doctor Who Christmas special, speaking of which. Narnia-themed this year. Interesting.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: The Beast of Legend<strong>

"Crap, he's real. Forget lunch, I'm going after him." Clara set about putting the food away fiercely, as though set on a mission. Once she practically attacked this task, she grabbed the two bags she'd carried.

Satina stopped her with a hand on the wrist. "Leave them there. The smell of my fresh rabbit will give it even more hunger pangs."

"Good call." Clara then set out running, her feet pounding on the cave floor as sweat broke out on her forehead. She was concerned over Peter being able to take on the allegedly man-eating beast. Not allegedly, she corrected herself, for the desire for human flesh could be true in the beast's case.

She wouldn't let Peter die. Couldn't. Or she would blame herself for the rest of the journey, if there was a point of continuing on after that. In her view, she had every right to be worried. With Peter's relatively useless wooden exterior, it would be no trouble for the beast to chomp down on him. On second thought, if it liked flesh, it would just as soon spit him out. Right? She didn't want to find out either way.

At that moment, both girls (Satina trailed behind) heard a masculine shout from close by. A borderline scream that nearly stopped Clara's heart.

"Peter, I'm coming! Uncle Josh did _not_ give you to Fred just so you could get eaten!" she yelled, panicked.

Satina's eyebrows practically flew upward. "The prince was a kid's Christmas present? How embarrassing."

"Yeah, no kidding," Clara said shortly, starting to sprint down the other path that made up the fork from previously. She could hear the smooth metallic sound of Satina removing her katana from its sling.

"Maybe I'll be considered a heroine at my village if I defeat the unconquerable monster. Not that I care much for fame," she told Clara.

Peter yelled again, which caused the girls to speed up even more.

When they got to where he was, they spotted a patch of white fur that they could see vividly in part due to a hole in the cave roof. It was a wonder what a little sunlight could do.

"Foul beast!" Satina shouted bravely, pointing her katana up toward the creature. "Release the pr—what? What's...going...on?"

This beast that resembled a yeti turned towards them, holding a dangling Peter by one booted foot. He wasn't the typical pure white color of a yeti, however. He was striped with pale pink and wore a childish grin on his face. Peter's facial expression hardly matched.

"Twoy!" the yeti-thing cried out eagerly, very reminiscent of a three-year-old.

Automatically, Satina replaced her katana on the sling while her other hand slackened its grip on the belt pouch. Bewildered, Clara swiveled her head toward her, mouthing, "Why'd you do that for?"

Peter was even less sure of what occurred. "Satina, are you crazy? I could be killed, you know."

"No, you won't." Satina folded her arms across her chest, lifting her steely-eyed gaze to the beast. "I thought your kind died out years ago."

"I'm officially lost now," Clara remarked, secretly relieved that Peter was still alive.

Proceeding to gently pace back and forth, the huntress responded to her two companions' mingled puzzlement. "This is, you two, a peppermint yeti, a different kind than the one you've heard of. I thought they were just myths. Until now, obviously."

"Peppermint?" Peter snorted. "Do they come in chocolate and vanilla, too? Strawberry maybe?"

Not understanding what the three conversed over, the yeti ironically started swinging the nutcracker soldier as though he would with a hammer.

"Wait, wait, WAIT! NOT AGAIN!"

This served as a solid explanation for why Peter so helplessly screamed while the girls had run to get to him and rescue him. He freaked out every time the peppermint yeti swung him around. Clara at first stifled her giggles, but they became more pronounced the longer the hilarity lasted. Satina smiled serenely as well.

"It's not funny! Ahahahah, get your paws off me!" He fruitlessly attempted batting at its furry arms. "I hate to do this, but do you know who I am?"

Clara kept giggling. "Aw, come on, Peter. He's just having fun."

"Oh yeah? Well, that's good for him and all." Peter winced as his head smacked against the wall. Spinning around in a lumbering manner, the yeti's vigorous swinging increased tenfold. "But, it's...not fun...for...ME! Ahhh!"

"Man up, Peter," Satina encouraged, her Mona Lisa smile burgeoning into a full-fledged grin. "It's the peppermint yeti's nature to be childish and playful. That's what makes it more endearing than a regular yeti. It's almost—actually _is_—a shame that this one is the last of his kind."

Somehow, the thought of this enormous yet cute beast being by himself constantly with no playmate saddened Clara. Especially when, all of a sudden, she recalled a time when she played with her toddler brother at age eight. Little kids, let alone this peppermint yeti with a like mindset, should never be left alone. They always needed someone to play with, to have a bit of company.

Satina's smile turned bittersweet as she glanced back toward the yeti. "The reason why they're all dead is because traders prized them for their fur. Obviously, they made for great fur coats"—here, she sarcastically spat—"Due to their sweet temperaments, they couldn't possibly fight back. This one was kept well-hidden."

"Fun twoy," the yeti complimented sweetly before dropping instead of setting down Peter.

"Ouch...But, I guess I see your point, Satina. Personally, I've never heard of these yetis. The fact that people killed them for greedy purposes, though, makes me sick," he admitted, sitting up and brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. These words of his moved Clara. So, even though he had annoyed him, Peter did feel sorry for the yeti's plight. The soft side prevailed again.

"What are you smiling about?"

She emerged from her reverie. "What?"

Stepping up toward her, he teasingly knocked on her head. "I thought I was the one with the hard head. What's making you happy?"

Oh no...The blush betrayed her. "It's lame. You don't need to—"

"Tell me."

Clara let out a short laugh of disbelief. They were not discussing this right now while Satina was busy talking about the yeti. And what were they even going to do with him? Oh, all right, she'd spit it out. She couldn't hold back while those eyes twinkled at her beguilingly.

"I was thinking that it's great you're not such a bad guy after all. Not like I ever thought that but...I think you're sweet."

As sweetly as she thought him, he smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Yet another moment between the lovebirds." Satina threw up her hands. "There's too much lovey-dovey going on and not enough adventure. What say you about the yeti leading us out?"

Putting her hands on her hips, Clara insisted, "Not without naming him first. I vote Double Mint."

"Double Mint?" Peter chuckled with a shake of his head. "Nah, Slugger's better."

"How about Hercules?" Satina softly inquired of them, fondly patting the creature on the arm. "For, I did think his kind was a myth before. And he has proven he is quite strong."

Peter's smirk transformed into a sheepish grin. "I'm wood, though. I'm light. But, yeah, maybe the hat adds weight."

The trio all shared a companionable laugh before Satina moved to make way for the fuzzy lummox, now dubbed Hercules. Miraculously, he behaved as though he knew which direction the exit lay.

"I knew I got the right one," Peter pointed out cockily. "My sense of direction doesn't fail."

"I think he knows because of the...," Satina trailed off since Hercules stopped, grabbed a spun sugar stalagmite, and ate it. The sound of him crunching down on it reminded Clara of glass, most likely because spun sugar resembled glass. Maybe that stained glass that had varied shades and hues.

Satina beamed. "Peppermint yetis enjoy sweet things. Of course. Ironic but true. It's not limited to spun sugar; otherwise, they would have been mostly extinct even longer ago. Caramels, chocolate, sugar snow—it doesn't matter."

"You know, you guys, this is gonna sound kinda weird coming from me. But, I wish there were more yetis like Hercules." Peter reached up and patted him on his big shoulder. "I feel like maybe I should do something like create a royal wildlife preserve or something."

"Now, you're getting overly inspired," Clara replied, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

"No, really. Some types of animals deserve to run free. Well, I know where Mozzarella deserves to run free, but it's not at a preserve. It's in the deep, fiery pits of hell! Woo-hoo!" he whooped.

"Woo-hoo." Clara made a point not to go overboard.

It was then that Satina forgot that they'd abandoned the supply bags, so she sprinted to and back at record speed. Hercules, ever faithful, didn't stray on ahead. Despite his innocent childishness, he displayed a precocious intelligence that made it even more of a shame that the rest of his species was dead. The more she learned about this mystical world and what it consisted of, the more Clara felt as though she was a part of it. An active participant in it, she currently willed herself to embrace Marzipania and have that give her motivation to protect it from vile Mozzarella. This wasn't about getting home and eating gingerbread cookies any more.

"He's not gonna ruin this place for everyone," she murmured ardently to herself, her sense of justice expanding. For, it was only fair that the Mouse King, the one who sought this country's destruction, should meet a rotten end. A happy ending would not be in his cards.

A hand slipping into hers startled her. "What? Why are you—?"

Clara faltered at the glow in Peter's eyes. "You really care now, don't you?"

"Guess so. I forgot about going back to bed a long time ago."

"I think we both learned some things today."

Once more, she was the one to regretfully shirk her hand away from his. This close, nearly intimate friendship thing they shared was nice. But, how long could it possibly endure? By this time, they all arrived at the exit. This was where they parted ways with Hercules.

"Bye, Hercules." Clara snuggled into his cozy fur as she hugged him.

"Bye." Satina blinked back tears, shockingly.

"Bwye." He waved and picked up Peter. "Bwye, twoy."

"Yeah, yeah. Later, buddy." He patted the beast's back until, after being squeezed just a little too hard, he gasped out, "Let go. Can't breeeathe."

Hercules let him down and with one last wave, lumbered back to his cavern home.

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter is what I fondly called my "Avatar" chapter. With the whole "let's protect the environment and endangered species" message in there with Hercules the only peppermint yeti left. It's a good message, yeah, but this was all made up on the sly. I didn't think I'd even have a "beast" in these Candy-Coated Caverns chapters.**

**I must not have had too many original thoughts at this point, because I'm pretty sure with last chapter especially that a bit of "Hunger Games" influence must have swept in here. It's a good series. I'm going to die of anticipation waiting to go out and buy the third book, though it's been out for a while. I also heard the ending was debatable among fans as to how good it was or not. Oh well. If that's the case, I'll just fill in the blanks myself, like I had to do with the Avatar: The Last Airbender TV show. And Teen Titans.**

**OK, so did you think this was a cute chapter? I thought it was, and I threw in some fliration into the mix just to make it fluffier. Not really. That was improv, too. See you guys tomorrow.**


	9. Another Twist

**A/N: All right, I'll admit it. Chapter 8 was purely filler. But, this chapter is more eventful, and I feel this is the one where the three characters are explored more in-depth. This is where I think I was really sure that this story would turn out better than it had been in my head.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Another Twist<strong>

Though they hadn't known Hercules the peppermint yeti very long, all three teenagers silently agreed that encountering him had been worth it. Who knew that the terrifically ferocious beast would turn out to be such a sweetheart? His strange ideas of hugging had won even Peter over, and he had had to take the brunt of it.

A stretch of sugar snow with no trees blocking its way was now before them. All three members of the expedition party were uncertain as to how they would obtain more provisions. Oh well, technically, two mouths would need to be fed in order for their owners to not starve to death. Meanwhile, no trees meant Satina would be less likely to come across any animals.

Oddly enough, the huntress' ability to track down kills here was the last thing on her mind. In a gesture of true vulnerability, she continued to wipe at her watery eyes. It pained her to leave Hercules all alone in the Candy-Coated Caverns with no one to play with. He was the last of his kind, after all.

"Oh well," she told her new friends with a half-smile. "Maybe I'll bring Hercules back to the village when all this quest stuff is over. The kids will love him. And the adults will know better than to kill him once I show him to them."

Clara absolutely loved this idea. "Awesome! It'll be like taking care of it in captivity."

Confused as to why this was positive, Peter asked, "And this is a good thing...how?"

"For one thing, you've heard of zoos, right? Animals live longer in captivity than they do in the wild. And when they're captive, they live in a similar habitat, even if it's a fake one. But, in this case...I think Peter has a point. Will Hercules even be happy in that village, Satina?"

Satina's eyes were considerably brighter. "Of course. As long as he gets fed sweets, he won't care. He's a gentle giant."

"You girls and your emotions." Peter grinned in an easygoing way. "I mean, Satina, you've known Hercules for five minutes. Five minutes, and you're crying over him! I don't get it."

Spiritedly, Clara started walking backwards as she forthrightly said, "I think it's cute. It means that she's a tough girl with a love of nature. She respects everything in nature. That sums you up about right, don't you think?"

"Of course. If we don't respect nature, it can turn on us. As for how emotional I got over Hercules, Peter, I have a weakness for innocent creatures. Not like a man like you can possibly understand."

"I was just kidding! Jeez, Satina, can't you take a joke?"

"You just need to stop making them, Peter," Clara kidded.

Which inevitably resulted in the three of them competing to see who could make the best jokes.

For a moment, they forgot about all the anxieties that usually accompanied an arduous journey and goofed off instead. A snowball fight ensued again, only this one didn't last as long. This was mostly in part due to Satina hurling one of her kunai at a snowball, turning it back into powder. It was still pleasant to be this social and energetic with each other. Inevitably, though, they stumbled across the next grand distraction. Another thing to help them along to reach their ultimate goal.

"Oh, Fort Gingronia. It's called that because it's not too far from that forest," Peter pointed out to them.

"This country isn't that creative with coming up with names. I hate to sound all negative, but it's true," Clara said in all bluntness.

As the fortress came into view from what she could see, she sensed her eyes widening in excitement. These Marzipanian sights never ceased to amaze her. She would have thought it would be childish and schmaltzy like the Land of Sweets from the ballet. Instead, anyone from any age could appreciate what treasures this world had to offer. It wasn't like playing _Candyland_, getting frustrated with how simplistic and borderline corny it was. It was so much more intricate than a little toddler's board game.

Fort Gingronia just might have been the most elaborate candy structure Clara had gazed upon yet, only surpassed by Marzipania Palace. The tall wooden barricade that normally surrounded a standard fortress consisted of peppermint sticks in this one instead. The actual fortress itself appeared to have been constructed from vanilla wafer cookies with red and green frosting holding it all together. Extra embellishments came from gumdrops and caramel candies. Though this wouldn't sound like much to someone who merely heard about Fort Gingronia, seeing it in person was astounding. She rather liked the idea of confectionary construction. It sounded innovative.

"Is there any place in Marzipania that isn't gorgeous or interesting or whatever?" Clara voiced her dreamy thoughts.

"I don't think so," Peter answered almost immediately after her question. "These buildings prove that my people are good at creating wonders out of eatable things. I'm proud to be from here. I never really looked at this country from a real prince's point of view before. Until now."

It was whenever he behaved like this, mature and pensive, that Clara knew that there wouldn't be much more to their story when it ended. He would have his own, separate from hers.

After all, he was a prince and turning out to be a noble, genuine one at that. And no matter how rebellious he'd been, he had probably always possessed a kind heart. With its strong guidance, he would remain in his kingdom to rule. His dad ought to be impressed with him once this was through, so of course he would hand Peter over the crown, too. It hurt her to know that he slipped further and further away. Soon, he would forget about her. Just drop her.

"Wow." She gulped nervously. "That...That was a pretty good speech. You sure you're eighteen? Because half the guys at my school don't even act their age."

He then gazed at her very seriously, so seriously that her heart was so close to stopping.

Slowly, a grin spread across his face. "Farts."

What...the...? When Clara began to thump Peter's back with her small fists, Satina stared wide-eyed at her. As though coming to the conclusion that yes, the girl with "Aerosmith" on her T-shirt (whatever an Aerosmith even was, Satina had no clue) had finally gone mad.

Clara screamed in frustration, "Aaaaarrrggh! You do this to me every time! Every freaking time! You...You...You hard-headed idiot!"

"Ah," Peter sighed calmly, grappling with her hands. "I can feel the love. But, we're getting close to the sentry guards now. They'll think you're attacking me, so I suggest you don't take your frustration out on me. K?"

One eyebrow twitching, her light exasperation mutated into outright inflamed rage that he would be so sarcastic with her. "Don't talk down to me, OK? Forget what I said. You got a ways to go."

And so, as much as she usually avoided this as well, Clara ended up fuming when they stepped up to the two tin soldier guards keeping watch over the main entrance. Recognizing Peter as the nutcracker instantly, they allowed him to pass. Once he informed them that Clara and Satina were his traveling companions, they were allowed to enter, too.

"Clara," Satina whispered to the still sulking girl as they walked the short distance to the actual fortress structure, "why were you so angry? Somehow, I think it's deeper than what it was. What were you thinking?"

"It's stupid." She waved her hand aside. "I'm not going to tell you."

The metaphorical weight of her mingled confusion and hurt caused her to drag her feet. She dropped back behind Satina and was now many steps behind Peter. Lousy hormones, getting her all emotional. Why did she overreact to his teasing that irritably? Did she care that much if he dropped her?

That was the problem: caring. She looked at this beyond a ballet, beyond a fairy tale, beyond an old-school toy. She began to look at it as though this was real, raw.

Just before he knocked on the chocolate door, Peter glanced back at Clara out of the corner of his eye. Something troubled her. It wasn't like her to lash out at his harmless teasing to that extent. Whatever it was, it ate her up inside.

He'd been there. At the beginning of his curse, whatever had bothered him, he had kept it bottled up. He remembered when he'd returned to the palace, only to discover that his parents were gone, exiled to those islands. Even though he was a teenage boy and that he had believed he shouldn't cry, he'd nearly lost it then. Because he had had no one to turn to in terms of confiding. In terms of unloading everything.

His heart heavy, he approached Clara to ask, "Are you OK?"

With that kind concern both in his eyes and voice, she summoned all her internal strength not to break down. She didn't know why that simple question stirred her. It might have been because it dared to give her hope that he cared.

However, she decided to fake a smile. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm probably just tired."

In a quite direct move, he gently jabbed her in the chest where her heart was located. "Don't keep it all inside. It's not good for you."

Oh God, yes, she knew that, too. Didn't she think that over whenever she was up in her room by herself? She'd spent too much time alone. Either that, or it all came down to that fear over the aftermath of the broken curse.

Clara wanted to tell him what she really felt, what really got under her skin, so badly that it hurt. But, she couldn't. Not yet.

Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around Peter, who stiffened from the abrupt embrace. "I...It's hard to explain, you know? Your teasing didn't make it worse. I'm...I'm feeling weird right now."

"Weirder than usual?" He returned her hug and was relieved to hear her chuckle.

"You can say that."

"I'm here for you," he murmured before releasing her to lead her inside the fortress. Her face burnt as much as his. This had been an awkward yet somehow beautiful moment between them.

Once Peter knocked on the door as planned, a tall, willowy man opened it to let them in. He was so overwhelmingly tall that he dwarfed all their heights. Dressed in soldier regalia almost identical to Peter's, this stranger intimidated Clara. Satina automatically curtseyed.

A grim smile was on the man's face. "Greetings. Nutcracker, my friend, it is good to see you again."

"And you as well, General." He politely saluted before telling the two girls, "Clara, Satina, this is General Caramelin, general of all armies in Marzipania. General, these girls are helping me on my mission."

Inquisitively, Caramelin stroked his slightly stubbly chin, his ice-blue eyes surveying these new acquaintances. "Pleased to meet you, Clara and Satina. Come inside, where you are more than welcome to help yourselves to food and hot chocolate."

"Everyone's so nice here," Clara, back to tolerably good spirits, complimented as she practically bounced inside. "Even the military."

Satina muttered, "I wonder if I'll ever get to eat my rabbit," before following her to a meeting room in the structure.

It was no surprise that they would see a room resembling this first, as soon as they walked in. There was a long table in the center with many chairs pulled up by it. A map of Marzipania was currently pulled down, marked with multi-colored tacks. Clara noticed a particularly large red one where the palace was marked. Sure enough, true to Caramelin's word, a smaller table in the corner displayed a tray of ham and cheese sandwiches and a pitcher of hot chocolate along with cups.

"Oh yeah, food!" Clara wasted no time in grabbing a sandwich.

Suspiciously, Satina let her eyes skim over the pitcher of hot chocolate, sorely tempting. Back home, ever since the revocation of Wednesday trading days, hot chocolate had become a luxury item. It was weird to have an entire pitcher of this sweet liquid standing before her without having to win it. Without having to scrounge it from somebody to give it to a family member for their birthday like she'd done with her mother. To have something for free and have that permission from the giver...

Relaxing her tense shoulders, she gratefully poured herself a cup, took a few cautious sips, and closed her eyes. She savored the taste. How she'd missed it. She took a sandwich as well, appreciating these delicious gifts.

Eventually, Peter and Caramelin (first name Darren) entered the room, poured themselves hot chocolate, and discussed the strategies on the table. Apparently, Caramelin had received word from a fairy from the Sugar Plum Isles that Marzipania Palace was about to be under siege. Though Mozzarella lived there for the moment, he wished to destroy it so that he could build a new one. From what the fairy, who'd also acted as a spy, told him, the new castle was supposed to be made from silver from the mines...and that he would enslave all Marzipanian villagers to help him with this task. The able-bodied ones, that was.

When the girls overheard this, Satina's grip wrathfully tightened on her empty cup, and Clara felt sick to her stomach. That was just evil. How could someone control others—_manipulate_ others—to meet the ends for their own personal gain? And slavery? These villages had already suffered enough without this egotistical plot on top of it.

When informed of this turn of events, Peter's face fell in anguish. "How could he think of doing that? Their overall food supply has been reduced enough as it is. And to make them mine? It'll kill them! That bastard..."

Up until this moment, Clara had never heard him curse in a severe fashion. Now that he had, she realized how passionately he cared about his kingdom...and how willing he was to fight for it.

"It is crucial that we fight these filthy rats with all we've got," Caramelin announced solemnly, a wisp of his caramel colored hair falling into one eye. "It will be an all-or-nothing battle."

"Then, let me fight in it, too," Satina implored fervently, tears of anger, pain, and sorrow trembling in her softened gray eyes. "This is my fight as well. My family's lives are at stake with the rat's plan. I can't let them be thrown into the silver mines."

Caramelin's eyes widened, shocked. "A girl? I'm...I'm at a loss for—"

"She's a good fighter," Peter cut in. "I've seen her in action. We'll need her."

Furiously wiping her eyes, Satina allowed herself a grim smile that the prince would vouch for her in this instance. She was well aware of the military being strictly male, usually. And that didn't bother her. But, for the sake of her family, her village, and her country, she desperately wanted to do her part.

Inspired by her friend, Clara chimed in, sing-song fashion, "I'll help out, too!"

"Oh no, you won't," Peter shot back with gritted teeth. "I can understand Satina but not you. I can't have you in the line of fire like that."

"Oh yeah? Just because I'm soft? Some things are worth fighting for, and this is one of them. This is to prevent people from being forced to throw their lives away for an arrogant rat."

"But, you could be killed!" he shouted, his green eyes pleading with her to agree with him. To acquiesce to standing by on the sidelines, having to worry over her friends being killed.

Now completely serious, Clara held his gaze for a long moment. "I'll do it for them and...I'll do it for you."

A minute longer and he broke their gaze. "Fine. But, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. I don't whine, not usually. Thanks." She grinned, easygoing again.

However, this was all it took for her to disregard the shadow that passed through Peter's face.

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><p><strong>AN: At this point, I had "Everything I Do (I Do it For You)" by Bryan Adams stuck in my head. Fitting. So, things are getting a bit intense between Clara and Peter at this point. Wait until next chapter (which I'll update on the 26th), when things heat up.**

**This is also where "The Hunger Games" influence was almost stifling with Satina. However, I think I made her as intense as Aragorn toward the end there. So, yeah.**

**Have a Merry Christmas tomorrow, guys. **


	10. The Gumdrop Marshes

**A/N: OK, I was going to update this morning, but I'd gone out shopping. So maybe you all did, too. Anyway, here's chapter 10.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: The Gumdrop Marshes<strong>

After further discussion with everyone as to how they would attack the rat army, General Caramelin resolved that they would set off together as a band of four. He directed a tin soldier of a lower rank to have the troops follow suit two hours after they left. With these plans made, the general, Satina, Peter, and Clara stocked supplies before continuing their journey. The Gumdrop Marshes was the next location on the agenda, also marking three-fourths of the way to the palace. Despite the goal almost being reached, the mood among all four travelers was decidedly grim. News of Mozzarella's horrid plot was a game change.

Caramelin, though expressionless on the outside, possessed deep emotions regarding his own family. Veronica, his beloved wife, meant the world to him. He remembered in considerably great detail their courtship when he was just an upstart captain and she the belle of the ball. They had met at the Christmas ball at Marzipania Palace as a matter of fact.

Now, eleven years later, they had a five-year-old son and a beautiful baby girl. If the Mouse King had his way, this ideal family life that Caramelin led would be shattered. And he could not let that happen.

Satina still had her anxieties over the family she loved and would protect at all costs. If they lost miserably at the battle, the war might as well be thrown away. With Mozzarella's cruel devices, she would no longer have the capability to protect her family.

And between Clara and Peter, there was currently an awkward strain. To Clara, it definitely hadn't been that long ago when she had asked him if she could fight alongside him, and he'd readily said yes. But, when he vehemently responded with "no" when she volunteered her services again, she secretly deemed him to be a flat-out hypocrite. Was he just joking when he'd told her yes the first time? Clearly.

When she chanced to look back toward Peter, she noted that he had his arms folded in front of him as he trudged slowly. Even when he had given her her way, he sure hadn't looked too pleased about it. If anything, when she had grinned out of delight that she would get to assist her friends, he'd turned his back toward her. Ha, she knew what it was. He was worried about his princely ego taking a beating if she so happened to outshine him on the battlefield.

"Well, that's not gonna happen on my watch," Clara muttered acidly under her breath before taunting, "So, Peter, I guess you let sexism win out, huh? Too scared that a girl just might kick some rat boo-tay out there. Oh God forbid _that_ should happen."

Peter let out a hiss of frustration, perturbed that her thoughts would be along those lines. "That's not it at all, Clara."

"What is it then?" She turned toward him, paused until he caught up with her, and proceeded to walk in step with him. "Because what happened to the whole 'of course you can fight' and 'I'm not sexist' concepts?"

"Look." He barely held out patience. "This was before things got serious."

Apparently, he implied the possibility over the whole population laboring in the silver mines.

"You promised me," she retorted, her lips forming into the thinnest line she could force them into. "You said you would let me fight if it was necessary. I understand this is a big battle, and there's a lot of risk involved. So—"

Peter interrupted, "I don't think you do understand."

"Shut up! Don't interrupt me like that. I'll be fighting for a damn good reason and—"

"No, you shut up!" he yelled at her back. "Is this all some game to you? If you mess up, it's game over. And you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

Tears welled up in Clara's dark eyes before she weakly replied, "Go to hell," and ran ahead of him.

So much emotional hurt overwhelmed her that she even sprinted past Satina and Caramelin shortly before the first tear fell.

"Clara, we have to stick together," Satina spoke up before Caramelin put a hand on her arm.

"I doubt she will wander far," he logically surmised. "I overheard her shouting something at Nutcracker. She's getting away from him."

Caramelin was an expert at logic and strategy for a reason. True to his word, she hadn't wandered far as they got into Gingronia Forest (a larger forest than the one near the cookie house village), and she sank down to her bottom, her back against a maple tree. As determinedly as she could, she attempted to blink back her stupid, self-pitying tears. This had the opposite effect once they streamed down her face.

It was just...more than anything, she'd longed to help Peter out, to do whatever she could to avoid being a burden. The one guy she had expected not to be this way wound up being the one to treat her like a fragile doll. What he lightly agreed to back at her house was only to humor her. That was it, nothing more. Next up, he was probably going to start talking down to her, in order to humble her and to patronize her. At this stage in their quest, she would have thought they'd come along further than that.

Surrendering to her immature need to cry like a baby, she put her head down between her knees and sobbed. Her shoulders shook from releasing so much rage, disappointment, and some anxiety over the future.

She remained in this position until she heard leaves crunching under someone's booted feet, and their owner sitting next to her. What was different from the time they'd had only a brief spat over her holding back on vital information was that an arm draped around her shoulders. The other arm coaxed her into a full-on embrace.

"Shhh," he hushed her. "It's OK. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you, Clara. This is heavy stuff I was talking about."

Maybe if she stayed mad at him, she could stop crying or at least stop acting weak. Instead, Clara buried her head against Peter's shoulder, soaking up all the comfort she could get.

"You'll let me fight, right?" she asked in muffled tones.

She heard a dry chuckle from him. "Yeah, since I can't go back on my word. But, you gotta try not to get hurt, OK? I was worried about seeing you hurt. That's why I snapped earlier."

"Why would me getting hurt matter to you?" Clara realized that he seemed to get tenser when it came to her fighting rather than Satina, who was his friend, too. What difference did it make other than Satina's swords and daggers?

Peter pushed her back from him a little, prepared to say something to her, but Satina and Caramelin intruded just then. The latter actually appeared to brighten up over some prospect.

"We are only yards away from the marshes," he remarked approvingly. "Which means that we will be close to facing off with those good-for-nothing rats. We'll teach them not to mess with our kingdom!"

Satina smiled. "Well said, sir. And since the fort is near the marshes, he ought to know where they're exactly located."

Eager to get back on the old dusty trail, Clara sprang to her feet, certain that no cares would disturb her calm thoughts. And she hated taking her negative emotions out on poor Peter. She internally scolded herself for snapping at the really likeable nutcracker for the third time. How immature and juvenile did he think she was at this point? Did he look down upon her? It didn't seem that way when he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll never be mad at you again," Clara promised. "I hate it."

He grinned down at her. "Don't sweat it. No one can be a saint on a long, epic quest like this one. Besides, we get along for the most part, don't we?"

Hearing his teasing tone when he said "for the most part", she laughed merrily. But, it was true. Throughout most of this journey, they'd been getting a little bit closer and a little bit closer. Though, granted, she'd taken her cheap shots at him a couple of times, there was definitely a friendly, more intimate vibe between them now. More than ever before, she figured. And even if she did get cranky sometimes, she would never forget how fun this had been.

On toward the Gumdrop Marshes they headed, and she could hear some bubbles pop before they even got there. Something told her that this would be the most imposing obstacle they'd faced yet. Admittedly, in comparison, Hercules hadn't been much of an obstacle.

"Here we are," Caramelin told them, peering back at them over his shoulder to check to see if they'd caught up. "The Gumdrop Marshes."

Apparently, the gumdrops acted as stepping stones to aid one in getting through all the muck of the swamp. Green, purple, red, and blue gumdrops remained afloat above a sticky yellow mass that stretched for quite a few miles horizontally. Vertically, they could just make out the other side, the side ever nearer to the palace and the side that was their objective.

Satina glared at the swamp. "What is that yellow stuff?"

To answer her question, Peter knelt down, tentatively scooping some of the yellow goo out. Appalled, Clara wondered if he would dare to eat it. A few more bubbles popped in what rested on the wooden palm of his hand. It didn't look remotely appetizing. In fact, her stomach churned at the mere sight of it.

Peter sniffed the goo. "I think it's supposed to be banana flavor taffy."

Taffy? Who would've thought that taffy could comprise a whole, entire swamp?

Still, Clara wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I hate bananas."

"They're a delicacy where I come from," Satina mentioned to no one's surprise.

As the four of them surveyed this part of the forest further, they observed that there were three trees growing here. Vines hung off them, almost as though they could be used as ropes. Putting two and two together, Clara gulped at the likely possibility she would have to use them to swing from gumdrop to gumdrop. Luckily, most of them could be reached within a jump. Still, there had to be a catch.

Caramelin provided her with one. "These gumdrops will sink if there's too much weight on them—meaning if you stand on them too long or there're too many people on one at once. With that said, I'll go first. And once you follow, here's a bit of advice. Try the best you can not to fall into that taffy. Terrible mess. It might be a little hot too, if the bubbles don't tell you anything."

Personally, she had no idea why the adult in the group should go first, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Caramelin had long legs, being approximately 6"4', that proved to his advantage. He jumped from gumdrop to gumdrop quite rapidly, never hesitating. There were twenty-five in all that he stepped on to reach the other side. Yet, he got there in about five minutes.

Satina was next. "I think you might need Peter's help, Clara. So, I'll go on ahead. Be careful, you two. You're my new friends, and I don't want you hurt."

"Yeah, Mom," Clara joked. "You better go if you're going."

Satina moved as swiftly, if not more so, than the general had. With her tutu somewhat spread out with her speed, she looked like she was practically flying. It wasn't shocking that with her athleticism and elegant finesse that she didn't struggle either. Maybe Clara had over-thought this when she figured it would be difficult. Two members of their expedition party made it through successfully. Now, it was just her and Peter left. Hopefully, they would go smoothly, too.

Peter gestured her to go. "You go on ahead. I'll be behind you just in case."

Hm, wasn't he getting a bit overprotective of her? Oh well, better safe than sorry.

For the first ten gumdrops, Clara felt that she was progressing pretty well. Though slower with her jumps, she could at least land them. She was impressed with herself for crossing the swamp without too much effort. If she was lucky, she wouldn't have to bother with the dangling vines.

Unfortunately, the twelfth gumdrop started sinking almost as soon as she landed on it. This didn't make sense. She barely stood on it for a second. Frantically, she grappled for a vine and, despite pathetic upper body strength, managed to pull herself up slightly. Releasing a tense sigh, she squeezed her eyes shut. Apparently, there was a trick gumdrop that neither Satina nor Caramelin had lingered on for too long. She gingerly hung there, gripping so hard on the vine that her knuckles turned white.

"I hate being the damsel in distress," she complained, ashamed that she would be hurled into this position. Like all other Claras in most _Nutcracker _adaptations, she could do nothing but just be there.

Peter called out to her from the eighth gumdrop, "I'm coming, Clara!"

"Yeah, you better get on that!" she shouted in response, her eyes gradually opening. She had to assure herself that as long as she didn't look down for a fraction of a second, she would be OK.

Oh God, she looked down! Her feet dangled a mere three feet above the bubbling taffy. She despised bananas, never caring much for their strange sweetness, much less flavoring. If she let go of this vine, she would have it not only in her mouth but on every part of her body. She would be useless as a sticky girl for the rest of the adventure. And she'd gone too far to even think of ruining it for herself now, much less for everyone else. Not to mention the temperature of it could be unbearably hot. What if she died?

She cringed when she heard herself whimper, so she bit her lip to stop. Peter was almost there, just a gumdrop away...

Too late! No! Palms sweaty, her strength running out, she lost hold of the vine. She screamed, ready to meet hot, sticky, and disgusting banana taffy.

"Got you!" Peter, on the thirteenth gumdrop, reached out (well, practically lunged) for her and caught her. She was safe in his arms. Alleviated from that awful stress she'd experienced, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

He gazed down at her. "Figures you'd be on the trick gumdrop."

"Well, you encountered a 'monster.' It's my turn for bad luck now."

"Guess so." He tucked away a loose strand of her hair. "What would have been worse luck, though, is if you fell all the way in. Smelling of banana for the rest of the journey. That wouldn't have been too fun, would it?"

As he jumped across five more gumdrops, with her still in his arms, Clara thumped at his shoulder. "No, it wouldn't have. Jeez, Peter, you're always teasing me."

As they approached the opposite bank, he ran his hand through her hair entirely, sending an unconscious shiver through her. "I like messing with you. Makes me unpredictable, don't you think?"

_Don't swoon_, she warned herself, though her hands began shaking. "Yeah, I guess so. I like that about you."

"Good," he whispered, a smile flitting onto his mouth.

Oh, she guessed this meant they were all made up.

When he set her down on the bank, she couldn't lie to herself. Almost instantly, she missed the feel of his arms around her. This got too serious in more ways than one. Especially since her friendship with Peter might be...could be...more.

Satina smiled at her. "That was a close one, Clara, I must say."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged. "Peter and I had already worked out a strategy in case something like this should happen. My luck, it did."

Caramelin then walked on over to them to advise, "We must stop to make camp soon. The sun is setting."

So, they continued on, searching for a decent spot for camp. Clara took a backward glance at Peter, who stared intently at her. Her heart beat at what felt like a hundred miles an hour.

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><p><strong>AN: I figured that the Clara and Peter having an argument would add a bit of realism to this chapter. After all, I was thinking that they'd started getting along a little too well. This isn't Bella and Edward here. Blech, Twilight. The last one better not do better than the last Harry Potter movie box office-wise. I will...Nah, whatever.**

**So, what did you think of this exciting installment? Care to drop in a review? By all means, don't be shy!**


	11. The Night Before

**A/N: Hello, everyone. Welcome to another installment. Wish I had more to say on these author's notes. Actually, I do. I may update on a daily basis from now on, considering I'm almost finished writing the story. As for typing it, it'll take a while, because there are some huge, eventful chapters coming your way.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: The Night Before<strong>

Much to Satina's satisfaction, she finally got the chance to eat her rabbit. They made camp in a clearing further in the forest, where they would have a little bit further to go the next morning. According to General Caramelin's optimistic report, they would arrive at the palace by midday if not sooner. It sounded about right that they would be this close to their final destination. One last battle that could make or break all of them.

No one spoke of it that night, but the foreboding hung in the air all the same, thick and heavy. The defining moment would come tomorrow, though which form it would take, no one really knew. Who could know?

Even though a lot of grimness was the overall mood that night, there was still a tiny sliver of humor to be found. After the four of them gathered fallen tree branches so they could start a cooking fire, Peter lit it by rubbing his hand against the pile repeatedly. Both Clara's and Satina's mouths dropped open when they saw this display. It was so funny that it couldn't possibly be real. Caramelin appeared composed, as though he'd seen this before, which he probably had.

Holding up his finger, Peter blew out the flickering flame on it. "Psssst! I got a gift."

Skeptically, Satina shook her head with a knowing smile. "Sure you do. But, hmph, it's only logical that you can start a fire. The friction between your wooden hand and the firewood would cause some sparks. It's no gift. Don't be such a fraud."

He fake gasped. "A fraud? Me? Oh, shut up. I got a gift, and you know it. I can create fire out of thin air!"

Clara sarcastically pretended to clap her hands. "Bravo. Now, let's see you create air out of thin air."

Upon receiving his confused expression, she couldn't help but snicker. Satina joined in, and soon, everybody shared a laugh, including Caramelin.

Later that night, the four travelers ate their meager but quick dinner and settled down to sleep. Caramelin unloaded the pack he had carried on his back, and it happened to contain four blankets. Better yet, there was no need for someone to go on guard duty. The wolves had been kept well-fed this year and possessed no desire to gnaw on human flesh. So, they contently made themselves comfortable on top of their thick wool blankets, dreams filling their heads.

Caramelin dreamed of his wedding to sweet-tempered Veronica and how beautifully the ice sculptures glittered in sunlight filtering through the windows. Speeding up closer to present day, his pleasant dream then depicted him holding his first-born son for the first time.

It had been a while since he had last seen his family. Though there was no one higher in rank than him to deploy him whenever, he had kept himself occupied with the rat raids. Greedily, those ugly creatures would invade villages every so often to basically lower the residents' confidence. They would attempt robbing them of their food and whatever else they craved at the time.

If they wiped out Mozzarella, he would promptly take a year-long break to spend time with his wife and children. He only prayed that Veronica wouldn't be too angry with him when he returned home. Knowing her forgiving nature, it wasn't likely she would be furious. Her lovely, bouncing golden curls he longed to stroke once again. To take his children in his strong arms and give them both a great, big bear hug would leave him overjoyed. They, the perfect family unit, would laugh and smile together like they used to. This was all he longed for, all he asked for.

Satina, at first, tossed and turned with dark nightmares of Mozzarella imprisoning the shrunken members of her family in a cage. However, it turned lighter when she arrived on the scene with her katana in hand.

The ensuing scene would have made most other dreamers cringe, but while she slept, a triumphant smirk appeared on her lips. For, she pictured herself stabbing giant Mozzarella in the eye, blood spurting from the wound. With his infamously shrill shrieks, he covered the offending eye while throwing a tantrum in the process. Just like Ole Mozz, but wouldn't it be great if they gave him the agony he had given to others? She would relish in the moment of their victory, at the pinnacle of rigging the disgusting, despicable creature's defeat.

Initially, Peter dreamed of reuniting with his parents, who assured him that all was forgiven and that they would always love him. Then, he glimpsed Clara in the crowd of celebrating villagers, her face pale and a bit heartbroken. Just as he was about to reach his hand out toward her, she turned away, disappearing into the thousands of people without sparing him a glance.

He heard words, her words: "Your dreams have come true now. Why should I even stay here?"

Desperately, he searched for her but to no avail, only hearing those haunting words echo in his mind. This dream so disturbed him that he woke up.

As for Clara, she didn't really have a full dream, only a set of disjointed images, both things that had occurred and things fabricated. Of her posing for a Christmas picture with her family, of throwing one of Satina's kunai experimentally, and of sipping hot chocolate back home. Of snowball fights and of Peter's face. His smile. His warm chuckle.

Too much Peter, so she was awakened by longing dreams as well. Also, she fretted over the coming day when they would charge against the Mouse King. Sure, reinforcements from their side would show up to help out, but anything horrible could happen. That was what she dreaded, more than anything in the world. A promising victory could turn hollow if one of them fell by getting injured or, worse, dying. She got up to restlessly walk around.

When she spotted Peter sitting under a pine tree, her face broke into a smile. It was nice to have someone to talk to this time of night, to keep herself sane. Somehow, she knew that talking to herself wouldn't suffice. She needed another person, and she was so glad it was him.

In four strides, she stood over him. "Hey."

He smiled wryly, waving at her. "Hey."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No. I take it you couldn't either," he observantly remarked.

Clara shook her head. "Not at all. Not with tomorrow and...and..."

"You don't have to say it."

_We both know_, they thought simultaneously. With the blazing last battle on the horizon of this on-and-off war that encroached Marzipania, both teenagers weren't feeling particularly cheery.

Taking her seat beside him on the soft carpet of pine needles, she looked up and noticed the bulbous full moon glowing in the sky. If she was in her bedroom, would she be seeing that same moon right now? Even if Earth and Marzipania was a dimension apart, they both could share the moon. Maybe. Or maybe she was thinking much too deep.

She laughed shortly. "You don't mind if I talk to you, do you?"

Peter shook his head. "Of course not. Actually, I was hoping someone else would wake up, just so I could have someone to talk to. Even Caramelin, though I doubt talking war strategy would help."

"Bad dream?"

"You can say that. It was the same with you, I bet."

"Yep," Clara drawled out.

The problem with being wide awake at night was that it was quite easy to run out of things to say, especially in this case. Neither of them didn't feel like predicting what would go down at the palace.

Instead, after a long, musing silence, Clara took the initiative to start what was to be a truly sincere conversation. "What are you gonna do after this?"

Wearily, he tilted his head down toward hers. "After what?"

She punched his arm. "After the battling and the quest is all over, silly."

"Oh, well, if you'd said something the first time...First off, my curse ought to be broken by then. I'll find my parents next, I hope. The past two Christmases without them have been tough. After that...If I have to, I'll rule over Marzipania. They deserve to have someone who's ready to defend them and make them happy and prosperous. I think I might be able to do that now. Even with my parents back, I'll be able to. I owe them so much."

His voice broke when he made this confession about owing both his people and his loved ones. He acted as if he owed many, many debts that would take the rest of his life to pay.

Scooting closer to him, intimately so, Clara took his hand and held it between both of hers. "Yeah, but forgiveness will pay a lot of those debts. Besides, once everyone discovers that you were still protecting them as the nutcracker all along, they'll go crazy over you. In my opinion, I'm pretty sure you've more than lived up to your parents' name."

"Don't say sweet stuff just because you're feeling sorry for me." Yet, he let his arm pull her even nearer, so they currently sat hip to hip.

She grinned at him playfully. "Maybe I feel a little sorry for you. But, I think what I just said is legit. How about you?"

He sighed, though his eyes glittered. "I'd say it is."

"Knew it."

With a joking shove at her, he commented, "So cocky, yeesh. Be careful, or I'll pop that giant head of yours."

"Ha, ha," Clara quipped and was rewarded with that gorgeous laughter.

Being so comfortable next to Peter caused Clara's eyelids to grow heavy, and she had to hold back a yawn.

"Clara?"

"Mm." She made a point to straighten up, so she wouldn't doze off.

He asked, "What are you gonna do? After all this is over, I mean."

"Go back home. Wake up from this amazing, emotional dream I had. Then, wait til school starts back up in January. All the while watching TV and reading and a little shopping."

His green eyes glanced at her sympathetically. "Sounds boring."

"What do you expect? I live in _Oregon_. Nothing much going on there."

"Yeah. I just think it's too bad that you don't get to live like this every day. Like every single day is an adventure. Like you've got so much energy to burn off. And you get to hang out with people you like, with people you care about."

Clara sat back, amazed. His perceptions were keen, beyond insightful.

More than ever, she was acutely aware that leaving him while abandoning this world would be extremely painful to bear.

Blearily, he then said, "One more thing."

"Yeah?" She fought back waves of sleep.

"You said there was a ballet that had a story similar to mine. So, I gotta ask you this." Peter paused before asking her softly, "Does the nutcracker get the girl?"

Her heart stalled at that tenderly voiced question. "It's not really that specific. It just ends."

"Oh. But, if there were a real ending...?"

Passionately, Clara told him, "She'd be with him. In a heartbeat."

Genuinely smiling, he murmured, "Good," before shutting his eyes to the world. Clara followed suit.

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><p><strong>AN: I understand that in some adaptations of the ballet, they do have a proper ending. The version I'd seen on a class trip when I was in third grade had just ended. There was no finding out what happened with the nutcracker. Now that I've seen other versions on Ovation TV, I found the one I'd actually seen just wasn't that creative in comparison.**

**One more thing. If any part of the chapter was a bit depressing, it was because I was listening to Adele's "Someone Like You" at the time. That song's almost too heavy for me to listen to. Good but heavy.**


	12. What It All Comes Down to

**A/N: Well, here it is. The epic battle scene. And believe me, it's epic.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: What It All Comes Down to<strong>

Caramelin was the one to wake up his younger companions the next morning at sun-up. As soon as she was roused, Satina inspected the sharpness of her weapons. Considering she'd only hunted that rabbit yesterday, they weren't in dire need of honing. With a nod of her head, she put her weapons back, confident that she was prepared for today.

When Peter and Clara awoke together, they discovered that their hands had intertwined with each other overnight. With severely blushing, flaming red cheeks, they retracted their hands. Yet, at the same time, each had a private, secretive smile on their face.

An efficient group breakfast later, they packed up and set off. En route to the palace, Satina suggested that Clara practice with one of her katanas.

"I know it's last minute," she told her half-apologetically, "but you should be somewhat prepared. I don't want you injured."

"You keep saying that. Stop it."

Satina drew back, somewhat wounded. "But, I don't."

"I know." Clara patted her arm. "That's what makes you a great friend."

Her hands at the hilt, she proceeded to swing it around, rehearsing threatening poses and quick dodges. Parrying, thrusting, and she sort of got the hang of it. The katana felt lighter in her hands than a standard sword would. When Satina studied her attentively and silently approved, she offered to challenge her in a mock duel.

Clara willingly agreed, "'Course, Satina. I'm up for it."

Needless to say, she lost to the huntress, but it wasn't that painfully bad. However, she knew her sword work was amateurish at best.

"What else can you do?" Satina whispered in hear ear, eyeing Peter who luckily wasn't eavesdropping.

"Karate," Clara replied. "It's been a while, though.

With that established, Satina asked for her katana back due to the conclusion she made that Clara was better off relying on the karate. It had taken her a few years to master her katanas and kunai. With her new friend, she surely couldn't be an expert in a few, short hours. As Satina would personally attest to, it was wiser to go with the techniques you'd known for years rather than hope trying out new ones would work. They wouldn't, particularly if the person was a pure novice.

"It's better that you do stay armed, though," Satina said. "Just...I would use the katana for thrusting at this point. And it should be a last resort."

Clara didn't mind this strong word of caution. "Exactly. You're fairly smart, Satina."

The rest of the hiking through the Gingronia Forest contained no incident, quite dull and uneventful. Secretly, everyone was relieved at that. No challenges were offered up, and that was the last thing they needed on this trip. Eventually, after picking more clingberries to eat, they reached the dock where Graham cracker boats stayed afloat. The moat around grant, beautiful Marzipania Palace did not contain water but chocolate. Clara's stomach involuntarily grumbled at that sight, and she licked her lips hungrily. Each boat could fill four occupants at its maximum, which was fortuitous for them.

"These boats are enchanted to go directly across from the docking area to the palace. That way, it's a smooth ride," Peter informed Clara after helping her into one.

Sure enough, not a bit of chocolate abruptly splashed on any of them. It definitely explained why the rats had no trouble moving back and forth between the castle and beyond it. Soon, their boat stopped at another dock with twenty other Graham cracker boats, so that one couldn't get stranded at the castle. Magic operated everything here.

All four of them proceeded to race up the stone steps from the area to the main courtyard that spread out in front of Marzipania Palace. Big enough to be a good-sized battlefield, Clara considered apprehensively. Caramelin, meanwhile, spotted something that gladdened his heart.

"Ah, my men are coming!" he yelled gleefully, placing a hand over his eyes to clarify this.

Several boats began setting off four the short distance with waves of tin and human soldiers alike still coming. A couple of them even waved flags, a vivid, bright blue field with a silver crown on them. It then hit Clara that this was really it. Meeting Peter and those rats, receiving Melina's instructions, and having many encounters along the way all came down to this moment. This defining moment when the first wave of soldiers got to the other dock, marching spiritedly up those steps to engage in the fight of their lives.

General Caramelin showed his power by barking out orders to his subordinates, wasting no time in doing so. He was getting them into their formations.

Certainly, not a moment too soon. Fraudulent King Mozzarella burst through the main palace doors, followed by a massive army of two hundred rats. Instead of an obnoxious scream of frustration Clara associated him with, he revoltingly grinned, exposing a set of crooked, rotten teeth. His black eyes sparkled menacingly. He had no crown on his head this time (probably wanted to guard it from harm due to such a full-scale battle) but a sword at his waist.

Of course, he was proud enough to prove without words that they fought on his turf now. And he delighted in rubbing it in Peter's face. Burning ire coursed through Clara's veins, practically setting her body on fire.

Peter grimly drew out his sword. "This ends here, Mozzy! No more will my people suffer under your tyrannical rule. You betrayed certain members of your country's population, you betrayed my father, and you betrayed my entire kingdom. I bet you're real proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"Of course, boy." Mozzarella's grin only turned nastier. "I'm not the remorseful type. Never was, never will be."

"So, is it true that you plan to put my people into the silver mines?" He gritted his teeth in rage.

It was as though Mozzarella felt nothing, for he didn't draw back at Peter's growing anger or break down in tears. His sadistic grin widened even further to the point of distorting his awful face, making it look still more wicked.

"I surely can't build a new castle all by myself," he said in mock innocence, his tone sickly sweet. "Especially since my current home doesn't suit my tastes. Once I make _renovations_ to it, I'll need all the help I can get."

Clara noticed Peter visibly shaking from his anger now, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. That rage was palpable, and she saw his eyes harden.

He shouted, his voice resolute, "Men, attack! It's time we get rid of these vermin!"

"CHAAARRRGE!" Caramelin bellowed, pointing toward the enemies.

The announcement alone set off a firestorm. Rats and soldiers alike ran toward each other, weapons drawn.

Before he went after Mozzarella, Peter spun on his heel toward Clara, who patiently waited for whatever he would order her to do. Instead of giving commands, he knelt down in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"I'll let you fight and all. I won't go back on my word." He pushed back a strand of her hair. "But please, please don't get hurt. Keep moving. Stay safe. OK?"

"OK," she said with a tone of slight apprehension because she didn't know how this battle would turn out for him.

"Promise me?" He proceeded to stand up, looking concernedly down at her.

"Promise."

They exchanged hugs, and Peter held up his own sword that glinted boldly in the sunlight.

This encouraged Clara to stay emotionally strong. "Now go kick his ass!"

He chuckled, sending her a soldier's salute. "Will do."

Her heart soared as she then sped off toward Satina to borrow one of her katanas. By the time this ended, she would do her part and perform more than she had in her living room.

In rapt concentration, Satina whipped out her katanas, kicking one rat out of the way while attempting to kill off the other three that surrounded her. Somersaulting away from them as they tried to stab her, she impaled one through the stomach. When she landed back on her feet again, she slashed one in the neck and got another one in the back. The rat she'd kicked aside cried out for vengeance, setting an arrow into his crossbow. Obviously, not all of them relied on using swords.

It didn't help in this particular rat's case. Satina's aim and reflexes proved to be virtually unparalleled. In five seconds, she'd taken out a kunai from her pouch and hit him in the eye. He collapsed, twitching and flailing.

For the moment, no other rats charged up to her to take a shot at her, so Clara heartily applauded. She admired how swiftly Satina delivered her punishing blows yet managed to look graceful and feminine in that periwinkle tutu. Flexing her wiry yet brawny arms, she doubled over to regain her breathing. Her gray eyes flickered up to Clara, and a wan smile touched her lips at being clapped for.

"Thanks. Though I'm just doing my job—well, not job, exactly. But—"

"I know what you mean." Clara nodded, walking slowly toward her though her eyes roved about to seek out the enemy. It seemed as though they were more concerned with fighting Caramelin and Peter than the two of them. It just went to show that even male animals were sexist.

She asked, "So, can I have that katana?"

Satina put her hands on her hips, considering this. "Oh...Oh, OK. I've actually been getting by on one. Using two is just a preferential thing. Double the fatalities, you know."

"Uh, yeah." Clara laughed nervously. "So, katana, please?"

They got interrupted by a string of rats racing toward them, obnoxiously shrieking all the way.

"Here." Satina handed it off to her as though it was a baton. "It's always good to aim for the vitals. Stomach, neck, and chest. Maybe the eye if you're lucky, because that's linked to the brain. Got that?"

"Satina, I've watched _Lord of the Rings _several times. I think I know where to hit them."

With a loud battle cry, Clara parried one rat's attack, miraculously. The parry was somewhat wobbly, but she followed through by stabbing his stomach when he paid more attention to her neck. Another one tried to take her from behind, though Satina helped her out by slicing his back.

"What's your secret?" Clara raised her voice above all this squealing and clashing of weapons. "Why do you just do that so...? Well, you don't even get queasy."

"I save it until after the kill." Satina elbowed a rat in the chest, knocking the breath out of him. "I'm actually quite sensitive. But, in these rats' cases, they deserve death. I don't feel guilt."

"Ha, stupid rats, only putting on armored hats and chest plates, and that's about it." Clara punched one in the face. "Ole Mozz was being too cocky."

"Come here, girl. Not you. I know you're skilled. _You_." A rat pointed directly at Clara after Satina stepped forward to take him on. Inwardly, she groaned. She wasn't sure if she could overcome him since he carried himself as though he was a high-ranking official. Possibly, he might have rivaled Mozzarella in intelligence, but she had a bad feeling about this guy.

She pretended to not care. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"You're the prince's little girlfriend, are you not? His weakness. His vulnerable spot. You are the one to break his curse," he addressed.

"And who would you be?"

The rat's smirk sent her trembling with some apprehension and a lot of frustration. "I'm Mozzarella's right-hand man, his chief advisor, his consul. I'm the great Parmesan."

"You're kidding me, right?" she snorted with laughter.

"It's not funny!" Parmesan's voice rose in a disturbingly, high-pitched scream. "It's not my fault I was named this."

Clara abruptly cried out, "Look, a distraction!"

When the supposedly smart consul glanced back behind him, she slit his throat. With those bewildered black eyes, he didn't know what hit him.

"Pfft, all rats are stupid," Satina remarked condescendingly.

"Yeah, and that was an old joke, too. Anybody with half a brain wouldn't buy it. And I can't _believe_ he was high-ranking."

Satina's gray eyes narrowed. "It's Mozzarella proving that he ultimately runs the show. He never really listened to that consul. He goes his own way, clearly. I hope Peter gets him."

Peter...Clara wondered how he held up against Mozzarella, who was undoubtedly the head of and brains of the whole operation. If they could cut off the head, so to speak, the rest of the army would surrender.

Suddenly, the melee of rats and soldiers parted so she could glimpse for a second Peter and the Mouse King going at it. Every blow that Peter delivered got deflected by Mozzarella and vice versa. Their thrusts and parries were nearly in sync with each other, aggravatingly so. Peter especially showed signs of getting worn down. He panted wearily, barely dodging a blow to his head. Clara knew what she had to do now. If she could divert Mozzarella's attention for a few minutes...

"Clara, where are you going? Clara!" Satina called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the taut face of her friend. "Don't worry about me, Satina. I've got a plan. You just keep killing those rats."

She ran off, making a beeline for Peter and Mozzarella and wasting no time in intervening. Intervening only consisted of bursting onto the scene at the right moment. Mozzarella's whiskers twitched when he sniffed the air like some bloodhound before he spun around toward her, his eyes lit up with malevolent glee. His intentions toward her would not bode well for either her or the boy. He would see to that. His nasty grin returned.

"Ah, the nutcracker's lover, here to sacrifice herself for him. How sweet," Mozzarella snidely commented before letting out a dark laugh.

Peter shook his head at her, mouthing, "Clara, no."

"Stop worrying," she mouthed back at him and then responded to Mozzarella with, "Actually, I was thinking it's my turn to take a shot at you."

His whiskers twitched again, this time with annoyance. "You have a sword? Oh, irksome! But, if you wish to lose, I suppose I will humor your fantasies of being a heroine."

Their weapons clashed against each other immediately. When Clara attempted to slash him anywhere from the neck up, he swung at the katana so that it fell out of her hand. It landed a few feet away on the grass.

The sickening grin taunted her. "Well, that didn't take long, little girl."

Irritated at being called "little girl" and at the possibility of letting Peter down big time, Clara impulsively kicked the sword out of his paw. Overwhelmed, Mozzarella lost his grin and began screaming, throwing a tantrum that alerted soldiers from both sides.

"Aaaarrrgh! Not fair, not fair! How could you possibly do that?"

If his furry face could change color, it would have been an interesting shade of plum.

"Unfortunately for you, Chuck E. Cheeze, I took karate lessons from when I was five to when I was thirteen. And hey, guess what? I'm a red belt."

"Wh-What? What is that sup-supposed to m-m-mean?" he spluttered, some spit sticking to his whiskers. Shaking his head rapidly, he got rid of it and gave Clara an evil eye.

She crossed her arms arrogantly. "Two ranks below a black belt, that's what it means. I have body discipline."

"Oh no, you surely—oof!"

For, she karate chopped him right in the gut. This resulted in the two of them going hand-to-hand in combat. Peter seemed to fade into the background as she focused on hurting her opponent as much as she could.

However, she knew it was hardly a proper substitute for the borrowed katana. And when she signaled Peter to attack, this didn't work out so well. Not because he didn't get the hint but because when he was close to stabbing him in the back, Mozzarella knocked him aside.

Great. Apparently, he was the type of rat to take things personally and to make whoever did him wrong pay the consequences. So, until something happened (she could reach her katana from here), he would pummel her to the ground if he had to. Her fingers stretched toward the katana...

Ugh, so much for karate moves! As soon as he sensed that she would get her weapon back, Mozzarella retrieved it himself. She could never have it in her grip. Clara ground her teeth, fully incensed. Her kick at his sword from earlier was supposed to teach him a lesson in fighting fair. Unluckily, according to him, "fair" meant whenever he got his way, no matter the means.

"Your carrot-e won't save you now," he proclaimed, shoving her down and holding the katana high up over his head, ready to strike.

"Oh no, you don't!" Peter leapt between the two of them to stop the harsh blow. To Clara, this all unfolded in slow-motion.

For, through his interfering, he sustained a terrible cut that went up his chest. Mozzarella screamed with evil gladness, deeming himself victorious over his long hated rival. To further the bragging, he kicked Peter in his wound (cut deep into his wooden surface) while the latter fell backward. The ensuing soft thump was blaring for Clara and nearly deafened her ears. The worst had happened: Peter got hurt, badly.

"You..." She stared up at Mozzarella, her eyes hate-filled. "You freaking monster!"

It was really fortunate that she'd spotted his sword on the ground a few feet away. Throwing out her right arm, she grabbed it without a second thought.

"What did you expect? A cute and cuddly teddy bear?" he asked rhetorically, hinting at the living room incident when she had hit him with her slipper. He eyed his injured rival triumphantly, so he disregarded what she prepared to do.

Motivated by her burning, scorching hatred toward this hideous rat king, Clara fiercely lunged at him with her katana.

"Ahhhhh!" she screamed so loudly that her vocal cords felt raw, but she didn't care. All she cared about was avenging Peter.

The sharp blade pierced his vulnerable stomach all the way through, blood flying everywhere. Slightly nauseated, she drew back, not wanting the horrible smell to reach her nostrils or for her white T-shirt to get any blood on it.

"Curse...you..." Mozzarella's previously wide eyes glared at her, and reluctantly yet submissively, he collapsed. The beady, black eyes once filled with avarice glazed over.

With one last twitch of his whiskers, he was dead.

Whatever happened after that, Clara ignored. Dutifully, she rushed to Peter's side to wake him up. She desperately hoped he would, considering he frightened her as a motionless heap on the ground.

"Peter, wake up. Please." Her tone was initially soft, but when he wasn't responding, she slapped at his face. "Wake up, Peter! Wake up!"

With a grunt, he opened his eyes, just as green and breathtaking. "Hey, Clara. What happened to Ole Mozz?"

His voice sounded so hoarse and weak that tears stung at her eyes, though she still pulled off a wry smile. "I got him, Peter. He's dead."

Releasing a sigh of relief, he patted her shoulder briefly. "That's my girl."

"Peter...," Clara whimpered, biting hard on her bottom lip as the tears began to streak down. "This is all my fault. My...My plan was so stupid and...And I ended up getting in the way. If I hadn't been in the way—"

"Shhhshhshhshhh." Peter wiped away her tears before cradling her cheek. "It's not your fault, don't blame yourself. If I...If I could do it all over again, I would."

"But...B-But, why, though? You got injured."

He whispered, "Just a scratch."

Shaking her head skeptically, Clara slapped at his shoulder. "It's just so like you guys to write off your injuries like that! Just a scratch, yeah right. It's a gash, Peter. A frickin' gash!"

"Tasteless joke...Sorry." Peter grimaced.

Incredulously, she giggled from his reaction to her being the realistic voice of the situation. She laughed and cried at the same time. When he used his other hand to pull her down intimately close to him, she was brought to her senses. A blush stained her cheeks candy apple red, yet her smile remained intact.

He affectionately traced her lips with his fingers. "There's that smile...I knew I'd get it out of you...eventually."

He had such a kind heart. That irrevocably moved her.

"You didn't answer my question," she whispered, sharing an awkward embrace with him. "Why'd you put your life on the line for me?"

Running his hand through her unkempt tangles of hair, he responded with, "Because I care about you, Clara. From the moment I saw you...I knew that everything would change. You didn't"—here, he chuckled huskily—"You didn't think I was...ugly."

"And you know why?" She intentionally placed her face close to his. "Because it doesn't matter. Like every kid show and Disney flick has taught me...it's to like someone for who they are."

With a sad smile on her lips, she kissed him on the forehead. She heard a whisper of a gasp coming from him. It was as though he didn't expect her to have an inkling of feeling toward him. He had to be aware of how wrong he was.

"I care about you too, Peter...so much. Even though I could be so stupid, you still were patient with me. You never hated me."

"I'd never hate you. Never," he murmured hoarsely and for that, Clara rewarded him with a second kiss, one at the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly, a golden glow surrounded him and seemed to come from his very pores even. She concluded what it was quickly. His spell had broken, and he transformed before her eyes.

"If he's super hot, this won't be good," she muttered to herself, because she would get a blow to her self-esteem if that was the case. "I'm not exactly Jessica Alba here." A gulp followed.

When she saw him again after the golden haze lifted, Clara's jaw dropped. Oh, wow...

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><p><strong>AN: Ha, I'm evil. You won't even get to find out what Peter really looks like until next chapter. As for the battle scenes, yeah, I know, they got kinda brutal. Then again, maybe I was thinking about Lord of the Rings when writing this. In fact, I know I was.**


	13. Hearts Soaring

**A/N: In which there're reunions and stuff. I didn't have time to update yesterday, but I might update twice on Saturday, if anyone cares.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Hearts Soaring<strong>

He was every bit as handsome as Clara assumed he would be. First of all, he stood up straight and tall—really tall, taller than her anyway. If she had to guess at a specific height, it would be around 5'10" or 5'11". Then again, he had already been that towering over her to begin with.

But, oh wow, his face was incredible to look at, causing her to ask herself if Peter had ever been a nutcracker. Admittedly, she found it difficult to connect the two identities and believe they were one and the same. He had a strong jawline, a square chin, defined cheekbones, and a bit of a tan. With such a perfectly handsome face, those bright green eyes of his popped.

And his hair...It was dark brown verging on black, and it ended hanging slightly over his shoulders. Clara could tell that there were strong muscles rippling under the sleeves of his military coat.

"Yep," she muttered to herself, nervously twirling her hair. "Super hot. Now, here's the part where he ignores me."

Much to her surprise, she was the first person he looked upon with his new face though same eyes, which held his intensity. Enough intensity to freeze her to the spot. Her heart pounded longingly in her chest.

The steady thudding got even worse when his lips (for yes, they were there now, soft and full and prominent) formed into a tender smile. Before he could say anything, though, everyone except the retreating rats bowed to him. Satina curtseyed to him, though since she'd known who he was, it was a light one. And Clara could have sworn she winked at her. What was that supposed to mean?

In the meantime, Caramelin muttered to himself, "The prince. I-I had some idea it was him but was never sure. He's the nutcracker. He's been helping us all along."

Many soldiers overheard his musings, for they cheered uproariously.

And apparently, not everyone who had occupied Marzipania Palace over the past two years (possibly) was a rat. Chefs, servants, courtiers, and so many others burst out of the double doors of the palace. They streamed out into the courtyard, including a certain best friend of the prince's.

"Lewis? Hey!" He waved to him.

A blond boy around Peter's age with light blue eyes strode up to him and hugged him like only male best friends could. "Hey, Pete. Where've you been?"

"Oh, you know, being a kid's Christmas present."

Lewis' jaw dropped. "What the—? No way! Did they like you?"

He shrugged. "It was mixed. But, his sister now...She likes me. In fact, she's right over there."

Swiveling his head toward where Peter pointed (Clara, seeing this, sheepishly looked away while scratching the back of her neck), Lewis studied her. He appeared to be intent over this, cradling his chin and screwing up his eyes like he was near-sighted. He even wasted time "hmming" before he nodded and gave his friend the thumbs-up.

"She's cute."

"You can't have her," Peter deadpanned.

Lewis lifted his hands in a gesture that told him to calm down. "I wasn't thinking about it, man, wasn't thinking about it _at all_. In fact, you're the hero here. And believe me, you need to get caught up in the love department."

"Thanks."

"You deserve her. Since she's the one who broke your spell (which explains why I haven't seen you in forever), she's probably a great girl," Lewis stated sincerely.

"She is...," he trailed off, his eyes dream and far away.

"Then go ahead and ask her out already, buddy," Lewis suggested, giving him a nudge in the shoulder. "Or at least tell her how you really feel."

"Maybe I should," Peter mused to himself just as a crowd of soldiers and palace residents encircled him. He wasn't sure what they expected from him at this moment. An eloquent speech? To tell them what to do by ruling over them this minute and replace his parents?

Apparently, none of that mattered to his people, for they settled on picking him up and placing him on their shoulders instead. Incredulous yet moved by this gesture, he chuckled at their enthusiasm.

Then, he recalled his dream from last night, the one that had rudely woken him up. He would be disappointing Clara, hurting her feelings even. This left him inevitably torn, but then again, he could try for a balancing act, to show his appreciation both for them and for her.

"Prince Peter has returned! Long live, Prince Peter!" they chanted, including Lewis who called him "Petey", a nickname he would sometimes use to irritate him. Yet, the blond grinned widely, genuinely excited that his long lost friend had returned from, as far as he'd known, the grave or hiding.

While Clara yearningly looked on, Satina sheathed the katana she held and picked up the one last used by Mozzarella.

"I'll have to wash this one, since the rat's dirty paws have been on it." She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she put it back on her sling as well. "Well, why haven't you joined the crowd yet?"

Clara shrugged. "Wanted to let Peter have his moment. He's earned it."

"Oh, come on, Clara, you saw my wink. I meant to tell you to go for it. You care about him, don't you?"

"Of course I do!"

"I may not be that overly romantic, but I suggest you tell him how you feel," Satina advised.

She couldn't. He was too handsome, a world apart from where she was. Too perfect, like the stuff of fairy tales.

"'He's so hiiiigh, high above me'," she admitted through song before giving Satina yet another shrug. "Looks like it's turning out to be exactly how I imagined it. Besides, he should be with a princess."

"Clara," Satina groaned reproachfully in an attempt to force the girl to listen to reason. Instead, Clara shuffled off, her arms folded against her chest. Keeping her thoughts to herself, the heroine, the main girl, and the one who broke the curse reflected on this adventure. It had been extraordinary. She wouldn't trade it for anything, and it more than made up not viewing the ballet.

Look at the friends she'd made! Satina, though, not so much Caramelin or Melina due to them being older. The huntress could be tough yet sweet and a teeny bit quirky enough that they'd become great comrades. Not to mention it had been worthwhile to train with her.

And Peter...She felt another stinging pang at remembering all the moments they'd shared together. Ranging from the fun, ridiculous moments like the snowball fight to the tender ones like last night's meaningful conversation...

Blinking back tears that had abruptly arisen, she wistfully stared at Peter being adoringly carried on the shoulders of his people.

"Duh, Clara, don't be so selfish. He's got a whole kingdom to look after. You ain't in the cards any more, honey," she told herself in that strict, blunt voice she often used with herself. In this case, more than ever, she felt that voice needed to be there. She had a home to go back to, whereas he had duties to perform for his home.

Here came the fork in the road, the last goodbye. So, she would release her private jealousy (that was what it was, right?) and take on that realistic outlook. She liked to think she was fairly smart with her A's in school and all.

From where he sat on so many shoulders, Peter noticed her shuffling her feet on the grass, arms crossed as a sign of insecurity. It was just as he feared. Well, there was no way he would allow his old nightmare become a morbid prophecy. Flattening himself as he lay down, he directed everyone, "Put me down, guys!" and crowd surfed through several pairs of hands. Once he descended, he decided that he would run to her.

"Clara!" he called to her, which caused her to look up in shock.

Her cheeks burned in a scarlet blush. "This is where you say bye, right?"

"What?" He stepped closer to her. "No. Not yet. I mean, do you want to leave?"

She sighed, eyes flickering to the sunny sky. "Not particularly."

He chuckled. "Then why even think that? Listen..."

Oh, he was as beautiful as he was on the inside. Honestly, Clara had always doubted the existence of such guys, ones who were attractive but not arrogant. Here was living proof standing before her, a smile on his face that melted her insides. As much as she tried to stop, her knees quaked.

Peter cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm still me. Nothing's changed. Other than the fact I can eat normally now. And I can't make fire with my hand any more. Which is too bad...because I thought it was really cool."

She couldn't help herself when she giggled at his jokes. His telling of them made her feel special, as though she was one of the people he would cheer up to put himself in a brighter mood, too.

"Uh-huh. I can still make you laugh, can't I?" He pressed his forehead to hers and softly repeated, "I'm still me. And thanks to you, Mozzarella's toast and my spell is broken. You've really done a lot for me, Clara. Though, yeah, like you said back at your house, you can get carried away sometimes"—she gasped, wondering how he'd registered that—"Oh, what? You thought that because I couldn't talk that I didn't listen to you?"

When Clara just gaped, Peter grinned and shook his head before stroking her hair lovingly. "You can get carried away, but I like your enthusiasm. It makes you unique and interesting and fun and..."

"What? Why'd you stop? I could listen to that all da—oof!" She was interrupted when his strong arms pulled her into an embrace.

"You're everything," he whispered.

"Flirting with me?"

"You know what?" he quoted her words back to her. "I think I actually might be. You know, I owe you twice now, for saving my life. How should I repay that debt?"

A crafty smirk danced on her lips as she took him in. Dark hair yet light eyes that were emerald with a splash of turquoise. And those lips that were...Only in dreams would this happen. All this time, she had wanted someone like Peter. Funny, sweet, and sometimes the most stubborn bull she'd ever met—but, she cared for him, deeply so.

She caressed his face thoughtfully, gazing evenly into those mesmerizing eyes. He still had that anticipating smile on his face.

"Well?" he asked slowly.

Clara nearly had to hold back her vivacious laughter when she propositioned him, "How about this?"

And she brought his head down so that his lips landed on hers. At first, he froze in surprise but soon yielded to her lips. His arms wrapped around her wrist as he experimentally kissed her. For all of his confidence, he acted slightly hesitant over how he should go about it. Clara didn't blame him; she was the same way, this being her first kiss. But, this was just what she'd longed for. Peter was gentle, kind, but never forceful.

Even louder cheers, ones of approval, cut their kiss short. When they both looked around, they noticed everyone applauding. Caramelin and Satina wore huge grins on their faces. They laughed together at the realization they'd probably been carefully observed all along.

"How'd I do?" Clara bit her lip shyly. "I've never kissed anyone before."

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm, don't sound so surprised."

"I-I just can't believe you've never been with anybody before. Or even kissed. Um..." Peter's face turned bright red. "You did amazing, believe me. It felt right too, more than anything. You're perfect. And I think I could be—"

"Melina!" a soldier shouted, pointing up at the sky where that near blindingly bright gleam was located. Other soldiers and palace residents simultaneously glanced up to notice the lead two unicorns gradually descending. If there was cheering before with Peter and Clara kissing, then it increased tenfold with the sight of the universally recognizable silver chariot. Joyful screaming erupted (Clara mentally compared it to being at a rock concert) upon who else was in the vessel. Not Melina but...

"Mom, Dad!" Peter's grin stretched from ear to ear as he spotted the two other occupants.

The woman had auburn hair swept up in a bun with green eyes identical to her son's. She wore an orange dress that had slightly puffed sleeves. The very picture of grace, she sat there with her hands neatly folded on her lap. When she saw her son running up to the landed chariot, tears sprang to her eyes. Her husband steadied her upper arm with his hand. He had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. His outfit also appeared just as regal, if not more so, than his wife's. He had on a long-sleeved green shirt with black buttons down the front, light green cuff links, and black trousers.

"Peter," he greeted, trying not to let his voice waver from the emotion his wife professed.

Peter himself got very emotional, blinking back a few tears in his eyes. "I missed you. I was sixteen when I'd found out that Mozzarella banished you, you know. It was hard...being cursed and alone. I couldn't tell anybody, because I knew they wouldn't believe me. They mistook me, as the prince, for being lazy. I...I did all I could to not be a failure for you, especially you, Dad."

"Son." King Timothy alit from the chariot to strongly embrace him. "You didn't fail us. Thanks to you, you redeemed my own failure of trusting Mozzarella so blindly. And you weeded out our country of his army. There are not enough words to express our pride and gratitude."

The queen proceeded to go to Peter and kiss him on both cheeks. "Peter, we don't blame you for what our former advisor did. We don't even blame you for how you acted out. You're young—it's not unlike teenagers to make mistakes. It's OK."

As the three of them hugged as a family, Clara watched them, moved from this scene. Yep, how she acted around her parents was way brattier in comparison, she had to admit.

"Well done."

She jumped from being startled by that pure yet wise, old voice of the Sugar Plum Fairy before settling down. "Oh, hey, Melina. I didn't see you there."

Which wasn't all that surprising, Clara figured, since the woman was a full-fledged enigma. She could probably appear from anywhere she chose.

Melina smiled more fully than Clara had ever seen her do. "You accomplished the task set out for you, Clara. Not only did you help Prince Peter defeat the Mouse King, you broke Peter's curse. I must say he is quite taken with you."

Clara blushed. "I guess he is, yeah."

"I used my magic to find out if all was well again with Marzipania Palace, and since it was, I thought it a good time to bring King Timothy and Queen Laura back to their home. I've never seen them happier. Now that everything is restored, you do realize you must go home."

Still, the news hit her like a ton of bricks. "But...Melina, I don't want to leave. Not after the friends I've made and Peter..."

"You won't leave right away. But, tomorrow morning, you must. No exceptions."

"OK," Clara acquiesced, though her heart started breaking. It was like a tiny crack appeared at the top, making its way down.

Being separated from Peter would hurt. He wouldn't just be Earth miles away but an entire world, a dimension away. It was inevitable that she would return to Oregon. It made sense to her. She couldn't afford to cling to this candy world where everything would be perfect again. In the world of reality, she would have her feet firmly planted on the ground.

Melina sensed her dismay and placed her hands on her shoulders. "Do not be filled with sorrow, Clara. You have done much, and you have won Peter's heart. Be content with this please. It's for the best."

"Yeah..." Somehow, Clara felt she could only respond in monosyllables.

No matter what comfort Melina could offer her, she knew that it was futile. She would miss Peter deeply in spite of that stupid phrase that it would be for the best. What would? That she would more than likely never see him again?

What then made this moment more bittersweet was when Peter pointed her out to his parents and guided them over to her. Great, she would be meeting the parents now? Hello, that wasn't warranted until at least the fourth or fifth date. Not to mention these people were royalty! Clara put forth a valiant effort to remain composed on the outside, though on the inside, she shook like a leaf.

"Clara." Peter gently tugged at her sleeve. "I'd like you to meet my parents King Timothy and Queen Laura. Mom, Dad, this is the girl I told you about. The one who saved me."

Could he have made this any harder on her? Good thing the parents didn't stick up their noses at her for being a commoner. They were the type of benevolent rulers who didn't judge others outside of royal birth. Of course not. Why else had Peter come off to her as a genuinely nice guy? She had these people to thank, the ones who'd raised him.

"It is delightful to meet you, Clara," Laura addressed her warmly, even going so far as to give the girl an embrace.

On the other hand, Timothy was more simplistic in his approach by shaking her hand. "I hope you kept my son in like throughout your journey."

Clara smiled nervously. "He was no trouble for the most part, sir."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Peter has grown up to be a fine young man."

"Yeah," she agreed, turning her smiling face toward Peter. "You two raised a good kid."

"Oh, we're flattered," Laura beamed. "We're also glad that our son has found a reliable girl like you along the way. This must be why you were able to break the spell."

"It's been great pleasure meeting you," Timothy told her politely before he walked toward Caramelin's direction with his wife alongside. When Peter was about to speak to her, Clara found that her smile faded. How was she going to break it to him? He would be so disappointed.

As smart as he was, he asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"

She sighed wearily, "I'll tell you later."

He moved back some of her hair from her face. "Just as long as you don't keep it all inside."

It was at this moment when Melina stood in front of the palace doors, prepared to address everyone else.

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><p><strong>AN: There you have it. Please review.**


	14. Celebration of a Homecoming

**A/N: As promised, this is the first of two chapters I'm updating today. Good news is, I finished writing the story, so now all I need to do is type the rest up.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: Celebration of a Homecoming<strong>

"Attention, everyone," Melina addressed in a strong, clear voice, one of which those within a ten foot radius would heed to right away. "In light of the recent defeat of Mozzarella and the return of the royal family, I propose to have my annual ballet here in Marzipania Palace this year. I have already sent my fellow sugar plum fairies throughout the villages to tell the people this. They are on their way as I speak."

Exhilarated shouting echoed throughout the entire expanse of courtyard, some members of the crowd even resorting to hugging each other. Satina didn't suppress her smile at the thought of seeing her family again.

Melina permitted them to carry on this way until she held up her hand in a gesture for silence. "Furthermore, if the king and queen so wish it, I also propose for there to be a ball this very night."

"Of course! Of course! We were going to arrange for one anyway," Timothy commented, making a few people laugh at his witticism.

"With that, I only say that the ballet will start in an hour." Melina smiled dotingly at the ensuing applause. As such an indomitable fairy, she was still beloved as the wise, kindly figure she was.

Peter lightly nudged her shoulder. "Good thing you came along when you did. Melina's ballets are always great shows."

"I bet." Clara was beyond excited at the prospect of watching this ballet, considering it would be like the replacement for the one she didn't see.

"I've been seeing them for as long as I can remember," he brought up reminiscently, walking in step beside her and slipping his hand into hers. His warm human hand with long, graceful fingers yet so much larger than hers. When she squeezed it, he squeezed back, his fingers rubbing against hers. They seated themselves on the edge of the little island the palace sat on.

He added, "Every year, my parents and I would make a special trip to Melina's castle to watch it. You're gonna love it, Clara."

"I know," she replied, noting that a few of his dark bangs fell into his eyes, eyes that she swore to herself she would remember the rest of her life. She reached out and swept them away, only for them to tumble back down again. She smiled peacefully and was about to bask in this quiet moment when a barge of people was headed toward the docks.

Peter sat up, more alert. "They're coming! I wonder what they think of me now..."

Clara placed her hand on his shoulder. "They probably like you again. But not just like...I'd say love. And it's not gonna fade any time soon."

"Yeah, maybe they do."

She had half a mind to say, "I do, too," but she wasn't sure if she was ready to admit that. Only a teenage girl, she doubted the existence of true love at her age. She'd taken psychology, and the teacher had mentioned something about how everyone didn't come into full brain maturity until age twenty-five. So, if that was to say anything, it meant she might not even know what she wanted in a guy yet.

But, she figured out, she did know what all she wanted, and here was a boy with those qualities sitting next to her. She sighed.

Meanwhile, Satina and Lewis, who were actually next-door neighbors back at their village, caught up with each other.

"So, what's with the get-up?" Lewis asked teasingly.

Satina groaned, "I'm a snowflake this year."

"Lucky you. But, looks like you'll need to get cleaned up. You kinda got blood on it," he commented.

"Rat blood, yeah. It's tainted. Hopefully, Melina will fix it."

Gradually, the two of them got closer to where Peter and Clara sat together while the barge drew ever nearer. A second barge was on its way, following behind.

Lewis scratched his chin. "She will. Melina knows how to fix just about anything. And, um, I saw you fighting out there. I watched from the window. You were...heh, you were pretty good."

Satina smiled a bit modestly. "Thanks. It was all self-defense, though."

"Really? If it was, then why'd I see you practically gut one of them?"

"Fresh meat," she murmured in his ear, causing him to erupt in amused laughter. It was then that they directly came upon Peter and Clara.

Thankful that this presented itself for distracting her from her bleak thoughts, Clara gave them a wave. "Hey, Satina. Who's that guy?"

Peter stood up to introduce them. "This is Lewis, my best friend. Of course, Lewis, I already told you about Clara."

He had? She sensed the backs of her ears burning. Satina shot her a knowing glance.

Lewis shook hands with her. "Nice to meet you. You helped out Petey a whole lot. In fact, I was wondering if I'd ever see him again. That's why I headed back to the palace, because I hadn't given up hope. Apparently, neither did anyone else."

"OK, you wouldn't call Peter a...drunk, would you?" Clara grinned slyly.

He started chuckling right then and there. "That was the only time he ever got drunk. He didn't want to do it again after that major hangover, did you, buddy?"

"Shut up." Peter proceeded to lightly punch at him while they all laughed.

Suddenly, Satina eagerly jumped up and down on her tiptoes. "My family's on that barge."

In a matter of a half an hour, many families were reunited. General Caramelin, ecstatic that his wife and children had come, gathered them into his arms. Unshed tears shivered in his eyes, but they were those of sheer joy. His wife Veronica kissed him on the lips repeatedly, relieved that her brave husband hadn't died.

"Darren, I'm so happy that this terrible war is over," she confided in him, glancing down at baby Rachelle lovingly.

"I am, too. I am, too," he assured. "And now after the celebration, we can go home and be a family."

Their son Benjamin grinned. "I'd like that, Daddy. A lot."

Satina explained why she looked like a mess to her overly anxious mother while her father and sisters listened as well. Her account of the journey was also included.

"The Gumdrop Marshes are so gross!" Seven-year-old Lenora wrinkled her nose. "They're so...so...so sticky!"

Her elder sister Iris said sensibly, "That's because they're made of taffy, Lenora. What did you think they were made of? Peppermints?"

"You better hope that Melina will clean you up," Satina's mother Selene scolded half-heartedly, though was happy that her daughter had survived that horrible battle. "Look at those blood spots on your nice tutu. I was hoping you'd embrace your feminine side."

"I, for one," her father Alexander interrupted his wife's fussing, "believe that you showed a great deal of courage by volunteering to fight, Satina. I'm very proud of you. And Selene, there's no need to fret over blood spots. I've seen more gore on my hunts than that."

Selene waved her hands about in a fluttering way. "I'm only concerned about her well-being. You _are _OK, aren't you, honey? No skinned knees?"

"Skinned knees!" Satina giggled incredulously. "That would be the least of my worries. I'm fine, Mom. Stop worrying."

"I would if I could. But, oh, wars are so terrible! And dangerous and messy..."

Eventually, everybody retreated to the palace to wait for the ballet to begin. It was to take place in the royal family's equivalent of a living room, a room about the size of two football fields. There was enough seating for those who would watch and plenty left over.

"That's your living room, huh?" Clara teased Peter.

He shuffled his feet sheepishly. "Well, the ballroom wouldn't have been as suitable, especially since there's going to be a ball tonight anyway. Besides, there has to be seating. It's bad to stand around for too long."

"Yeah. Ah, these cushions are so niiiiice."

A man in a court jester hat bounced about as he walked to each occupied seat in the room. He held a platter with two pitchers on it. And they were fairly good-sized pitchers at that. This was after everyone in the room received porcelain mugs with various designs. Clara's was white and had a light blue snowflake on it.

"That's the Keeper of the Cocoa," Peter pointed out to her.

Covering her mouth, she held back a bout of laughter. "OK."

"I'm serious. He's the jester, too. See? He likes doing somersaults for people. And...Oh great, he's telling the one about the nutcracker and the pine tree. In honor of my spell being broken. 'Course."

"Why, does that joke offend you?" Clara asked with a wink.

Peter shook his head. "Nah, he can tell it all he wants. But, ironically enough, it used to be my favorite joke before the curse. Not so much now. I mean, I tried cracking pine cones early on. Those things are not edible, Clara."

"I could have told you that," she said, shrugging.

"Cocoa, anybody?" The Keeper of the Cocoa approached them just then, holding out his platter with an enormous grin on his face.

"Yes, please." Clara held out her mug toward him in turn, which made that grin of his even bigger. Bowing politely to her, he filled her mug and then performed two cartwheels in front of her. She applauded accordingly.

He stuck a platter in front of Peter's nose. "How about you, Prince?"

"No thank you."

"Really? I'm always ready to please the royalty. Besides, it's been a long time since I've served cocoa to you. Everyone has missed you."

Clara believed what the Keeper said one hundred percent. After all, why else did all the court members and servants return here to wait for when Peter would come back? Luckily for them, come back he did.

"All right, I guess I'll have some," he relented, simply to please a palace resident. The Keeper of the Cocoa promptly did a backflip in a victorious way, pouring the hot chocolate into Peter's pine tree mug afterwards.

Seeing that painted image on the mug, the comical man inquired, "Have you heard the one with the nutcracker and the—?"

"Actually, I have. Thank you," Peter replied curtly.

"Oh...well...Enjoy the show! They're going to serve the snacks in a few minutes!" The Keeper walked on to yet another set of seats.

The two of them gazed evenly at each other before Clara burst out laughing. She had to set her mug down, so she wouldn't risk getting cocoa up her nose.

Peter smiled wryly. "That was inevitable, wasn't it?"

"Yeah! And you're like, 'oh, I've heard that one already.' I bet you wanted to strangle him!" Clara still giggled excessively.

"Not quite. More or less just to trip him while he was doing one of his cartwheels," Peter quipped.

She took this moment to gaze about her surroundings.

King Timothy and Queen Laura sat near a group of villagers, discussing what would happen next in the kingdom. Trading days would probably be the first thing re-implemented. Hopes for the future maybe, to turn Marzipania into a kingdom ten times greater than before. She couldn't believe she had helped to bring this all about, this peace and contentment. The villagers wouldn't have to work in the silver mines or have anxiety over cruel enemies ever again. It was a pleasant thought.

General Caramelin was cozy in an armchair next to his wife who bottle fed the baby while Benjamin sat on the floor between their chairs.

Lewis' family and Satina's family, being good friends with each other, had taken seats near each other. Lewis' brother and sister, Justin and Flora, sat on cushions on the floor as did Iris and Lenora. Lewis and Satina sat on cushioned stools next to each other.

Selene, concerned as always, asked after Lewis. "Lewis, why did you come back to the palace while the rats were still here? Didn't they try to imprison you or bite you or try to kill you?"

He replied, "No. Besides, I came here this morning. Everyone else was here by the time I arrived. So, I guess we all knew Peter would be back, too. We didn't know he was a nutcracker. We'd thought he'd gone into hiding."

"So did I," Satina chimed in, her ballerina outfit now clean because of Melina's wand. "But, you know, he accidentally spilled the beans."

"That's so Peter," Lewis chuckled fondly. "He was bad at keeping secrets, still is."

Melina told Satina that it was time for her to join the other snowflake ballerinas, as they were up first. She gulped nervously. Taking out Mozzarella's soldiers had seemed like a breeze in comparison.

Lewis took her hand and squeezed it. "You'll do great out there. Believe me."

And somehow, she did believe him. Maybe she would visit him at the palace more often. If not, he usually could be found at his house over the weekends. Either way, she was beginning to see him a whole new way.

"Don't sprain your ankle, Satina," Selene advised worriedly. "But, I do wish you luck out there."

"Break a leg, sweetheart," her father encouraged, much to her mother's chagrin.

"Alexander! Are you trying to put pressure on our dau—?"

"Settle down, Selene. It's a theatre term."

Lewis just snorted laughingly before staring after that girl next door.

The court musicians gathered on the opposite end of this so-called living room (Clara could hardly believe how expansive it was), and she squirmed slightly in her seat. She couldn't wait now, especially since she had chocolate in her system, even if it was liquid.

Peter smiled at her. "Excited, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, this is gonna be so cool. I mean, I'd originally wanted to go with my best friend to see the ballet in my world. But, seeing some ballet here...It totally makes up for what I didn't get to see," she explained.

He rested an arm on the arm of her chair. "I think you've enjoyed my world more than yours."

Maybe she had. That wasn't necessarily a good thing. Soon, she would want to sleep so she could be in Marzipania forever. Sleep to die or until death or...Stuck in a coma, her family would have to face the inevitable debate of whether or not to pull the plug. Then, boom...She wouldn't have anything.

"Clara?" Peter waved a hand in front of her face.

"What? Oh, I'm fine, Peter. Just impatient for this ballet to get going."

At the moment, the musicians began to play a different song from the one they had been playing, which was the introductory song. The different one was one Clara recognized.

For, it was the dance of the snowflakes with the village girls she'd spied upon early on in their journey. Unexpectedly, Rosaline didn't step out in front of the other girls. Instead, she stayed in line with them. Satina caught Peter's and Clara's transfixed eyes and smiled at them.

She was actually more than "adequate", as Rosaline had so kindly termed it. No, she exhibited natural talent since she was elegant in form. She did her plies spot-on. Clara looked around for reactions, seeing that Lewis seemed particularly riveted. He leaned very far forward, his hands clasped in front of him.

"I think they're going to be a couple," Clara whispered to Peter.

He smiled mysteriously. "Possibly. They live next door to each other, after all. I just never knew her that well, obviously, until this quest."

All six girls joined together in a circle at one point, dancing on their toes together. Practically in sync, they would jut their right legs out at the same time. Then, a separation before Satina, then Rosaline, and then that Jessalyn girl performed grand jetés along with all the others.

Before Clara knew it, the number ended, followed by polite applause with some people giving the girls a standing ovation. Lewis, unsurprisingly, participated in this. The girls then walked off "stage" and back to the numerous seats.

Clara hugged Satina once she stepped toward her and Peter. "You did a great job out there. You're as good a dancer as you are a hunter."

Satina waved a hand aside. "I wouldn't say that. I feel I do better at killing animals than anything else. But, if you say so, Clara. I'm a little flattered anyway."

At that moment, Lewis came up to her and also bestowed her with a hug. "Gotta admit it's nice to see you prancing in a tutu than running around in pants."

"Ah, Lewis, you're such a male." She rolled her eyes.

"Granted, I wouldn't want you in a tutu 24/7," he recovered nicely.

All the other performances were dazzling as well, simply beautiful spectacles to behold. After the snowflake dance came the entrancing Arabian one with music Clara had always considered dark. At the same time, though, it was sensuous. The Arabian dancers did a good job with their undulations and general flexibility. This was followed by the Chinese dancers with music she thought to be kind of cute, if she could call music cute. However, unlike the traditional ballet she was used to, the dancers performed with umbrellas. There was some dizzying spinning going on with them. They also did some tumbling along with the ballet steps.

A few more other dances followed, but everyone paid so much attention to Melina's performance that they ignored the finger foods they'd been eating.

Clara had to admit that those snacks were fairly delicious like chicken fingers, watercress sandwiches, ham and cheese sandwiches, olives, grapes, and cheese cubes. But, she stopped eating as well when Melina danced before them all. Her arabesques were executed perfectly, and she moved as though she'd been doing these steps for years. She probably had. At one point, she lifted her leg up to near her head. Who wouldn't be in awe of that?

Once her dance was over, the ballet concluded, too. Cheers accompanied the clapping with some people whistling. They could all feel much more liberated with feeling overjoyed since Mozzarella's reign had come to its abrupt end. Now, everyone's minds were on the ball that was to take place in a few, short hours. Ball...Ball? Clara freaked out a little bit. What in the world was she going to wear? Jeans and a band T-shirt didn't exactly qualify for being formal wear.

"Ball...That sounds way too formal," she murmured anxiously to Peter.

He just chuckled. "Relax, there're a lot of other people in the same boat as you."

That's right. Dang, this was going to take forever in terms of preparation time.

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><p><strong>AN: OK, so yeah, I threw in some ballet in this chapter. Sorry if my description was crappy, but obviously, my knowledge on ballet is limited. I just threw in some terms I picked up watching "Battle of the Nutcrackers", which was some special they had on Ovation TV with these two people commenting on whatever ballet version they watched every once in a while. But, anyway, yeah, not so great with ballet terms.**

**As for Satina's mom, well, I thought it was hilarious what a hyperchondriac she is in comparison to her daughter. Selene is a loving mother, believe me, but sometimes, she gets a bit overprotective.**

**K, next chapter will be headed your way.**


	15. Dancing of a Different Kind

**A/N: K, now this chapter, I believe, was probably one of my favorites to work on. Hopefully, you'll all see why.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Dancing of a Different Kind<strong>

In general, dancing was something Clara preferred to watch, not to do. What she told Satina concerning the lack of balance on her feet wasn't an exaggeration. It wasn't as though she did this that often, but she would trip over people in the school hallways. The only time she'd practiced grace was when she did karate. And she highly doubted she would be able to pull off all those fancy dance steps the royals and court members were probably capable of.

As everyone got up from their chairs, stools, or cushions, some of them proceeded to leave with their families. It was only a tiny fraction, but Clara hardly blamed them for leaving early. She, on the other hand, felt obligated to stay.

A large group of people whom she guessed were court stylists practically pounced on those who resolved to attend the ball. Clara gulped. Maybe she would go upstairs and find a guestroom to wait all this out. Unfortunately, one particular, garishly made-up woman stopped her. Wonderful.

"Clara, is it?" the woman asked for clarification.

She forced a pleasant smile on her face. "Yeah, that would be me."

"I'm Hestinia, stylist for the queen," she introduced herself with a sugary sweet smile. Clara had an urge to turn and run for the hills. For some reason, she had the strangest feeling that she would be subjected to a makeover.

The queen's stylist, huh? Well, hopefully, she did a better job on Laura than she clearly did on herself on a daily basis.

"Um..." Clara's mouth suddenly turned dry. "So, why are you here?"

Hestinia tittered behind her plump hand. "Queen Laura personally requested that I take care of you first before her. She's such a sweet woman."

Apparently, though, Laura made the mistake of thinking this would be an honor for her to get dolled up first. Ha, she didn't think so.

In fact, Clara legitimately prepared to run when the stylist tugged at her arm. "Oh, don't be that way, dear. You want to look your best for the prince, don't you?"

_Sorry, Hestinia,_ she sarcastically replied in her mind, _but I'm not gonna fall for the whole girls need to look good for their boyfriends crap._

Besides, her hair had been in total disarray throughout the entire though short journey, no thanks to her sleeping on it. And if Peter only liked her based on looks, then she would give him a scolding he wouldn't soon forget. Still, Clara realized that Hestinia would fight tooth and nail to make her over. Fine. But, she didn't have to like it.

"I guess so," she relented. "I'll be fine with it."

Hestinia clapped her hands. "Oh, it would be such an honor to dress and make up the heroine of the prince! I'm so glad you see things my way."

Inevitably, Clara was whisked away up the grand staircase to a pair of shuttered doors in the hallway that Hestinia stopped close to. Making a big show of this, the stylist opened these doors to reveal a humongous walk-in closet. There were dresses, trousers, rich-looking shirts, and shoes, all of various sixes, inside. It was an incredible sight to stumble upon, just when Clara assumed that this would be like a typical castle.

"The closet is where we store clothes, in case we have guests who don't have anything formal to wear, like in your case. But, that's only because Melina's announcement was _so _sudden"—here, Hestinia clicked her tongue in slight disapproval—"I would say these dresses would be about your size."

She removed seven dresses, which she draped over her arm. She smiled so hard that her dimples looked as though they were about to explode. Overwhelmed, Clara took a step backward. How was she to choose? These dresses must have cost a fortune, definitely too good for her by far. Then again, a particular one appealed to her eye.

"Which one will you have, Clara?" Hestinia asked.

"Um...I guess the turquoise one," she replied, reminded of that slight tinge of that color in Peter's eyes.

Clara could call the queen's stylist many things, but "grumpy" wasn't one of them. "Excellent choice! Now, these blue slippers ought to match and fit. Killing two birds with one stone, I'd say. All I have to do now is do your hair and make-up. Isn't that exciting?"

No. Absolutely not. If she had had her way, Clara truly would be concealed in either under one of the beds or in that walk-in closet the whole time everyone danced. She doubted she could be gusty enough to attempt dancing in front of at least a hundred people. Nonetheless, she was like a herded sheep, allowing herself to be led into one of the guestrooms. There was an adjoining bathroom where she was suggested to change.

Clara closed her eyes tightly as she felt the rich satin fabric slip over her when she changed into it. This didn't feel right. The material was too fancy. She felt practically naked without her band T-shirt and jeans. And she winced when she had to give up her Converse and socks temporarily for that pair of dancing slippers. These slippers happened to have tiny, glittery bows on them. Bows! Feeling like she wasn't remotely herself any more, she didn't bother to glance at the mirror on her way out. One thing she did like about the dress, though, was the sleeves. They were still long enough to be stylish but not too short.

The ball gown itself wasn't too frilly, though it did have wide, sweeping skirts that reached down to the floor. As for the slippers, she found they weren't very difficult to walk in. Hestinia suppressed a shrill, excited scream with her hands and jumped in place a couple times.

"Oh, you look so lovely! The prince will notice for sure."

Trying very hard to repress the annoyance in her voice, Clara responded with, "He actually noticed me when I wasn't wearing a dress and when I didn't have any make-up on."

"Well, he'll be enchanted anyway." Hestinia giggled uncomfortably.

Clara was then instructed to sit on a cushioned stool by the vanity while Hestinia started combing out her hair. Maybe she should have done that task before she left the house. Whenever the stylist had to smooth out tangles, it was really painful to her. She guessed she'd been sleeping on it one too many times lately.

Gathering her hair up into bunches, Hestinia inquired, "Any preference for your hair? Up or down?"

Hm, that was a fairly decent question to ask. Clara had actually been wondering the same thing herself. An up-do would make sense for this dress.

But, she thought of all the times when Peter would affectionately play with her hair. It seemed to be one of his habits with her, the other being his boyish teasing. If her hair was arranged in a braided bun on top of her head, for instance, Peter wouldn't be able to run his fingers through it. She bit her lip coyly at the thought.

"Down," Clara stated, no hint of hesitation.

Hestinia smiled down at her maternally. "I have just the style for it."

With lightning quick speed, she proceeded to place several curlers in Clara's hair. Oh boy, it had better be an amazing hairstyle when this was done.

While many strands of her chestnut hair remained tightly coiled around these plastic curlers, Hestinia pulled out a shelf on the vanity that contained make-up supplies. She produced lipstick and a compact and went straight to work. Skeptical of the woman's ability to make her look natural, Clara closed her eyes again. If this turned out ugly, she didn't want to see. She waited until all that application was done and the hair curlers taken out to open her eyes.

"Look at the mirror. I am positive you will adore this," Hestinia told her. Holding her breath, Clara scooted around so that she faced the mirror.

Was she honestly that pretty? She could hardly believe that there was this attractive girl staring back at her. Her eyeshadow was a soft purple color, her blush was done in such a way that it looked natural, and the lipstick was light pink. It was make-up that didn't overpower any of the contours of her face. As for her hair, it now came down in gentle waves to her shoulders, a style that uncannily reminded her of Melina's wavy blond hair.

"I didn't think you needed any mascara. Those eyelashes of yours are so long and pretty," Hestinia gushed.

Well, the woman wasn't the queen's stylist for nothing, Clara would admit that.

"I...I look good. Really good. You did a great job, Hestinia," she said in response, her heart still pounding out of shock.

The stylist curtseyed though was dismissive over this praise. "You're already a beautiful girl to begin with, Miss Clara. The make-up only goes along with that beauty."

"Beautiful...I...I am?" Tears began to prick at the corners of Clara's eyes.

"Of course, dear. Every girl is beautiful in her own way. I don't understand how you wouldn't recognize it in you."

"I do downplay my looks quite a bit," Clara confessed before standing.

Before she exited through the guestroom door, she realized how wrong she'd been about Hestinia. She had assumed that the woman, as a stylist, would be vapid and emotionally numb. But, it turned out to be far from the case. Feeling inspired to do this, she headed back to Hestinia to hug her.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"No, thank _you_." Hestinia returned the embrace before stepping back to take one last look over her. "It's been a privilege and a delight to make you up. You the heroine of the hour. Enjoy your night, sweetheart."

Clara nodded and smiled graciously before heading down the staircase to go toward the dining hall, wherever that was. Luckily, she bumped into Lewis and Satina, who were about to go there as well. Considering Lewis had been a servant since the age of ten, he knew where to find virtually anything within the palace. Lewis wore gray trousers and a red dress shirt with a pair of polished black shoes, and Satina was attired in a deep forest green long-sleeved dress that left her shoulders bare. Her usually braided hair was loose and somewhat curly from being in a braid that constantly.

"Wow, you guys look great." Clara did a double take with Satina especially.

"I'm not a huge fan of being dressy, but I gotta say, it's not bad to do it every once in a while," Satina confessed.

"So, which way to the dining area?" Clara asked.

Lewis proceeded to walk toward the east side of the palace. "This way. Trust me on this one, guys, the food here is great. And Clara, you look great, too. I think Peter's going to have a heart attack when he sees you. In a good way, I mean."

She replied satirically, "If Peter had a heart attack, it wouldn't be good in any way."

Satina made her stop so that she could get a good look at her. "I approve, Clara. Did you pick out this dress? It's gorgeous. Oh wow..."

"You look that amazing too, Satina," Lewis mentioned over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Lewis. Maybe Mom will finally be satisfied now that I'm getting in touch with my feminine side."

By this time, they reached the dining hall, where over half of the guests were seated, waiting patiently for the food to be served. The only ones who had yet to show up were the royal family. So, Clara resolved to sit next to Satina with her family. Lewis was on Clara's other side. While they waited, they all talked amongst themselves. And yes, Selene was positively glowing over her daughter.

"Now, Satina, this is what I've been encouraging all along. You are really quite a lovely girl. You don't need to go hunting with your father or go tramping through the woods. You could do more ballet or..."

Satina groaned, "Don't push it, Mom."

When the royal family arrived at last, they sat near the head of the table, so Clara was regretfully not even close to Peter. She could only notice that he wore the same clothes from before, but they were much crisper and cleaner. Besides, how much more formal could he have gotten anyway? Without further ado, the chefs appeared from the kitchens to present their dishes.

The food was quite delicious: chicken, roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, broccoli, cauliflower, other vegetables, dumplings, and much more. Clara tried to refrain from trying every single dish, and she succeeded but barely. All the dishes looked so tempting to eat. There was even fondue! But, no, she had to save room for dessert. Sure enough, there were just as many desserts as there had been entrees, side dishes, and appetizers. This included the chocolate cake with caramel drizzled on top, said to be the prince's favorite. Of course. And it was just as delicious as he'd recalled, too.

Clara doubted that with all the food she had partaken in, she would be up for much dancing. When everyone retreated to the ballroom, the next room over, she was almost relieved that she didn't end up with a partner. Rather, she quietly stood off to the side, admiring other couples who easily glided across the smooth marble floor. The king and queen were beautiful together, and they looked very much content, an example of a love that could last decades. Satina and Lewis seemed to be quite cozy as well. Ha, they would become a couple, she just knew it! And then...And then, well, Melina and Peter were moving gracefully. Even though the fairy was no threat to what she shared with him, Clara still felt a pang of jealousy. Lucky Melina.

When the musicians finished up that first song, she observed Peter walking aimlessly about, peering over people's heads. It looked like he was searching for her. As he eventually got close to her, their eyes met. Suddenly, his jaw dropped open with his eyes fixed on her. Wow. In all her years, she didn't remember any guy flat-out gazing at her like that. He slowly walked toward her as though in a daze. Of course, he was handsome.

"Clara," he said her name near reverently. "You...You look beautiful."

Clara sensed her cheeks heating up. "Thanks. You look good yourself. As always."

"Yeah?" He smiled at her sheepishly.

"'Course."

With a courteous bow, Peter offered his hand to her. "May I have this dance?"

This made her back up a few steps. "Uh, I don't know how to dance. I mean, I don't want to stomp all over your toes or anything."

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Just follow my lead."

"Then, OK. I accept."

As soon as he took her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it. Just like a proper gentleman would have done. Clara was impressed. He led her out to the middle of the floor while many pairs of eyes watched them. Since he was the prince and she the heroine, they were apparently a big deal as a couple. The violin players played their instruments more slowly, deliberately, to get each romantic note to sound enchanting. This was a love song the musicians currently played. Fitting. Peter placed a hand on her waist while his other hand clasped hers.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm." She nodded.

"All right. So, like I said, follow my lead. One, two, three, four...one, two, three, four...I think you might be getting it."

Once he said those words, it acted as a sort of jinx. Clara stumbled on the toe of his boot. Embarrassed, she blushed with an abashed smile.

"Sorry. See, I'm really not that great on my feet."

Peter tilted her chin so that he could look her in the eyes. "You were doing fine. I don't think you're doing too bad for a beginner. Just keep going."

With the hand on her waist, he brought her closer to him, giving her a tender stare. Somehow, his faith in her encouraged her more. She swayed to the romantic music, forgetting to be analytical about her steps. Honestly, she didn't need to be concerned over how accurately she danced.

He proved to be an expert guide in leading her across the dance floor, and he was so graceful, too. Then again, he'd probably been doing this for years. Gradually, the other dancers vanished from her sight, and nothing but Peter existed. She found she was having more fun than she expected.

Soon, Clara matched him step for step, causing him to lean over and whisper in her ear, "I knew you could do it."

"I got a good teacher," she told him, her eyes lighting up.

His lips brushed her cheek. "You always give me a lot of credit."

"Credit that's deserved."

They danced until the song was over and when the last long note ended, Clara felt as though she'd awoken from the most fantastic dream. Or recovering from a broken spell.

"Let's go to the balcony," Peter suggested from beside her.

How did he know that she wanted to share a private moment with him?

She grabbed his hand. "Yeah, we should. Get away from all these crazy people."

"I'm used to people crowding me, but I need time with you. Just you."

Fortunately, not too many people took notice of their departure. This atmosphere could put anyone in a trance.

Clara stifled a gasp when she saw how spectacular the view was from this outdoor balcony. The stars didn't seem so far away and things she could touch. It wasn't in the least bit freezing. She wondered if it could ever get cold here. Considering it was a magical land, probably not.

A pair of arms seized her from behind, and Peter asked her lowly, "Isn't it great?"

Beyond blissful, she settled herself against his chest. "Everything here has been great. And, except the rats, so has everyone."

He gently kissed the back of her neck. "Even me?"

"Oh, duh, Peter. Really? You're the one I really like."

They fell silent to enjoy each other's company. Clara was beginning to become accustomed to the tingling sensation she got whenever Peter's lips touched her skin. And she could stay in his arms forever. He smelled so good, too. His cologne drifted toward her nostrils, and it reminded her vaguely of peppermint. Peppermint with cocoa. She grinned modestly.

"Clara." His voice then turned husky. "Stay with me. I wish you could."

Clara opened her eyes, regretful. "I do, too. You have no idea. But...But, I can't. Melina told me I have to go back tomorrow morning. Besides, you know I can't stay. I have a family back home and friends."

Letting out a deep sigh, Peter admitted, "That doesn't surprise me. Oh well. Let's just enjoy this last night together. Sound good?"

"Sounds like a plan." She smiled wryly.

At that moment, a shrill shriek and popping pierced the silence and resulted in a fireworks display. Red, green, blue, and gold sprayed across the night sky. Perfect for a homecoming celebration for the royals. Clara had never seen anything like it.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"So are you," Peter murmured before turning her around to face him.

As he kissed her forehead, another set of fireworks shot up into the sky.

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><p><strong>AN: And, despite talking about The Hunger Games books a lot (sorry to go on and on for those of you who are iffy about those books), I did NOT copy the stylist thing from there. That part was originally planned even before I read that series. By the way, the ending was meh. I mean, it was like half-happy not all the way happy like I admittedly like. Just, if you want to, read those books if you haven't already and you'll see what I'm talking about.**

**K, done with that stupid rant. XD So, anyway, hope you guys thought this was good. I personally loved the fireworks part, a part I added in at just the last minute.**


	16. Goodbyes

**A/N: This chapter is a bit sad, in case you couldn't tell from the title. Party's over in Marzipania Palace then.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: Goodbyes<strong>

By the time eleven o'clock drew near, almost everyone had left Marzipania Palace through barge. The fireworks were set off one more time for all of them to witness. However, Satina's family was invited to stay, as she was the other heroine in the battle that would later be known as "Mozzarella's Waterloo."

She agreed to the offer, as long as her family deemed it suitable. Since even her mother readily accepted the invitation, they were ushered into two guestrooms: one for the mother, father, and two sisters and the other for Satina.

Meanwhile, Peter, being the practiced gentleman, escorted Clara to her temporary room. They stopped in front of the door to talk.

"This has been one heck of an adventure for you, hasn't it?" he mentioned.

She laughed. "To say the least, yeah. And I worried about things that, turned out, weren't such a big deal after all. How's it feel to be human again?"

Peter affectionately ran his fingers through her hair. "Awesome. What was really great about fighting to get back to normal, though, was that I met you."

"Me too, Peter. Never thought that Uncle Josh's present would turn out to be the sweetest guy. I had a great time tonight."

And she had. After the twenty minutes or so they'd spent at the balcony, watching the fireworks show along with several other guests, they had gone back to dancing. In her opinion, Clara had danced better with each song, improved from the one she'd first danced to with Peter. But, being that close to him had made her feel lighter than air. She had even felt his heart beat, more quickly than hers.

He held her hands, placing them to his lips. "I did, too. Out of all the girls I've danced with, you were the best. Bar none."

"Wish I could say the same thing but..." She shrugged. "I've never danced before with a guy. I was never asked to a dance, so that pretty much blew my chances."

Reaching out his hand, he caressed her face. "Your world's weird. Not too many people know how special you are."

Clara felt a smile barely flit across her lips. She closed the little space between them with a kiss.

As though they belonged there, his arms fastened around her waist. He seemed always willing to kiss her back. Clara could sense that her heart threatened to pound its way right out of her chest. No matter how many times he did it, Peter was simply a naturally skilled kisser. Her fingers wound around his richly dark hair as the passion she felt for him built and built.

When their lips parted, still separated by an inch of air, Clara opened her eyes to meet those heated green ones. His eyes were glazed over from both the intensity of the kiss and his own longing for her.

"Good night, Peter," she whispered, virtually out of things to say.

He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. "Night, Clara. Sleep well, OK?"

"You know I will," she murmured huskily, just so she could hear him chuckle.

She stared at him one last time before shutting the door. Just then, Clara wondered if she could sleep well. However, she couldn't say that she hadn't lived each minute to the fullest with what time she'd had here. And with Peter, she had had a memorable time with him, too. She would miss that and him. Everything about him. Once she changed out of that perfect satin dress, she put her jeans with holes and her T-shirt back on. The clock had struck midnight in a metaphorical sense. She was back to normal.

At first, Clara wasn't even close to falling asleep and blankly stared up at the ceiling for ten minutes. She'd gotten her wish. Her boring break had ended up getting mixed up, turned upside down, and twisted inside out. She had helped out in an epic war against hideous rats, met intriguing people like tough Satina and elegant Melina, and fallen in...Did she?

"Oh God, you've got to be kidding me," she muttered to herself for what felt like the thousandth time ever. "He's from another _world_."

As was the way with complexes, this one had to end, or else it would turn unhealthy. Clara wasn't stupid, so she knew that much. Sleep washed over her, much to her reluctance.

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><p>Breakfast the next morning was delicious and on a grand scale. Like with every meal in a palace, it offered many choices. Clara dined with Satina and Lewis, whereas everyone else either still slept or had already eaten. Quiet frankly, she was surprised that she could eat anything at all, what with her having to leave. She did enjoy a few strips of bacon, some sausage links, biscuits and gravy, and a small chocolate chip muffin. Maybe a heart attack on a plate (or at least a dietician's worst breakfast nightmare), but it was nice and savory. Just the way she liked it.<p>

Lewis chewed the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh. "Yeesh, Clara, you're eating more than I am."

"This food is excellent. I have to enjoy it as much as I can before...before...," Clara trailed off, averting her eyes to the plate before her.

Oh, what the heck? With her fork, she impaled yet another sausage link. Breakfast food was her best friend.

Satina offered a half a smile for comfort. "Think of it this way. You've made new friends in Lewis and me. It's not the destination, it's the journey."

"Yeah, Clara, like Tina said..."

The huntress pretended to glare at Lewis. "Tina? I hate nicknames. You've known me since I was three, Lewis. Don't you know anything about me?"

"Ah, guilt! You're killing me with guilt!"

Satina stuck her tongue out at Lewis. "Drama queen."

"Sociopath crazy person."

Clara snorted from their childish argument. These last few minutes promised to be worthwhile for her, after all. It was more than just saying her goodbyes to people.

"Did you hunt this sausage?" Lewis asked Satina accusingly.

"Oh yes, Lewis, I stabbed these links until they died. Besides, stupid, they come from pigs."

They squabbled in a friendly way before Clara asked, "You guys haven't seen Peter down here by any chance, have you?"

"Oh yeah," Lewis replied around a mouthful of bacon. "He came down here about half an hour ago, actually. But, he only got an apple strudel. Believe me, he eats more than just that for breakfast. And he was really quiet, too. The only thing he said to us was 'morning', and left with his strudel."

Satina nodded. "Yeah, it was very unusual. He looked like he hadn't slept at all last night either. I think you've had more of an affect on him than you've realized."

"Oh," she said flatly, guilt crushing her beyond relief. "I'd hate to make him sad."

"Then, he's really nuts about you," Lewis brought up. "If he's not eating as much as he usually does because you're leaving, it shows he cares about you. A lot. I've never seen him that way about any girl before."

Clara shoved aside her empty plate. "I'm surprised I've managed to eat this much. I think I've lost my appetite. And how did you know I'd be—?"

"Leaving?" Satina finished for her. "Melina told us you had to go back. And you can't stay here. I can understand that. Because if you do stay here, that means you'd have to sleep for a really long time. Your family will think you're deathly sick."

"Yeah, yeah, deathly sick. Not good," Clara sighed before getting up from the table bench. She didn't know when Melina would come to fetch her, so she would have to bide her time until then. Should she avoid Peter in the meantime? She would cause him more pain if she hung out with him on this final morning. So, she stood in place, uncertain.

Melina, gracefully entering the dining hall, spotted her. "Ah, Clara, I was looking for you. Follow me."

"See you guys," Clara told her friends with a huffy sigh, trudging toward Melina, who patiently stood in all her gravitas. At that moment, the Sugar Plum Fairy was one of her least favorite people. Indeed, she near resented her for telling her when exactly she needed to go home. The decision should have been up to her the whole time, as Clara stubbornly thought.

When Melina opened the grand doors that led to the front courtyard, Clara, quite the bull-headed girl, stopped. Her back was ramrod straight and her eyes narrowed.

"Clara," the soft-spoken woman addressed her. "We've discussed this. You must leave. And you can never come back."

"Why not?" she inquired angrily, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly.

"It is the way it must be. You are not of our world."

Some nerve must have fractured inside her, for she snapped, "So? Try explaining that to Peter! He acted optimistic about it when I told him last night, but now, he'll hardly eat anything! And all the friends I've made...They matter to me. How can I just up and leave them like that? It obviously doesn't bother you, but it bothers me!"

With her fists at her sides, Clara struggled not to burst out and sob, though tears spilled from her eyes.

Kindly, Melina put her hands on her shoulders and knelt down before her. Her violet eyes were soft, emphatic. "You must live in your world and mature from these fantasies. Peter will suffer from this; I never guaranteed his happiness over this. But, he must get on with his life and you with yours. It is a lesson we must all learn, I'm afraid. To move on from certain things. I'm deeply sorry, child, that you should feel so melancholy."

"It's OK." Clara sniffed, wiping at her cheeks. "You're right. It's just...I never thought I'd care this much, Melina. This has been an amazing experience."

"Then come out to the courtyard," Melina entreated. "I will let everyone know you're there, so you can all say your goodbyes."

As Clara waited out in that grassy area, she recollected once again the memories she'd ended up making in Marzipania. There were a few lessons she'd learned as well. She knew that she had to go, to wake up from unarguably the best dream she'd ever had. But, it surely couldn't be a dream. She could have sworn all this was real.

Satina and Lewis were the first ones to make it out to the courtyard, followed by General Caramelin and the king and queen. Much to Clara's heartache, Peter wasn't among them. Perhaps he decided to hold back on saying goodbye and would allow her to leave without him saying a word. Better off that way anyway. He would only be hurt worse.

Clearing her throat, Clara tried to look as gracious as she could before turning toward King Timothy and Queen Laura. Part of her was intimidated at having to talk to them again, but she was well aware that they would prove themselves amicable. For royals, they were down-to-earth people.

"Your Highnesses," she began. "I may not have known you very well, but I appreciate how nice you were to me."

"So polite, Clara." Laura smiled warmly. "But, we owe you a debt of gratitude for bringing our son back to us. We were honored to have you stay in the palace."

Timothy added, "And we saw you dancing with Peter last night. I must say, I've never seen two people be any happier. It is a right shame you have to go, but I suppose that's how it has to be."

"Yeah. It was great meeting you." Clara did her version of a curtsey before moving on to Caramelin.

"You were awesome in that battle." She gave him a salute. "You led those troops like nobody's business."

Caramelin saluted her back with a small smile. "Just part of my job, Clara, something I do every day. Besides, it was you who rescued our prince from certain death."

Oh yes, she supposed Peter would have died if she hadn't given him that kiss. That was a scary thought. At least she had saved him from that fate.

"Well, yeah, I guess so. Nice to have met you, too."

"And you as well." The general, so proper, leaned forward in a bow.

At that exact moment, Peter showed up at last, tentatively stepping out from the main doorway. Clara nearly gasped upon seeing how striking he was. He wore a black vest with a silver decorative pattern over a plain loose white shirt and black pants. Once his eyes met hers, they locked on her as though she was the most captivating being. This gaze spoke of yearning, of how much he wanted to be with her but knew he unavoidably couldn't. It tugged at her heartstrings.

She approached Lewis and Satina next. "You two lovebirds better get along. That was an intense argument a while ago."

Satina snorted, shaking her head. "Clara, please, we're not lovebirds."

"Nope, not in love," Lewis denied as pink flushed his cheeks.

Clara laughed at them. "Suit yourselves. Lewis, you're cool. I can see why Peter's best friends with you. And Satina, it was nice to have another sane female along for the ride."

"Well," the huntress responded, shrugging with her serene smile. "I guess if you meant someone who's brutally honest. You're an honestly great friend, Clara. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

The girls exchanged hugs before Clara added, "And you are one tough chick. I liked that about you, too. You totally demolished those rats."

Satina giggled. "So I did. So I did."

"Any dancing plans any time soon?"

"Maybe a little. It's not that bad, really."

Last but certainly not least was Peter. This would be the most difficult and the most unbearable.

He strode up to her, releasing a breath he'd been holding ever since he'd emerged from the palace. Blinking back some stinging in her eyes, Clara automatically hugged him. He returned her hug with equal pressure.

"I don't want to go," she murmured, nuzzling into his shoulder.

"I know you don't," he whispered while languidly running his fingers through her hair. "But, you have to. There's no way around it."

When he held her at arm's length after the embrace, Peter wiped away a tear that trickled down her cheek. Clara felt embarrassed at this. She was doing way too much crying today. Studying him somewhat, she noticed that it did look as though he'd barely slept. Bluish circles were under his eyes.

"Come on, Peter, I'm not worth losing sleep over," she reprimanded him for not taking that much care of himself.

He smiled wanly, only a little bit. "Hey, no worries. You're the reason I'm gonna get insomnia."

She smiled back more widely, causing him to trace her lips. "There's that smile. I'll remember it the most, Clara. And your eyes."

Peter then tenderly kissed her on the forehead, his hand cradling her cheek. They stared at each other for a long time before he removed his vest and placed it in her arms.

"Keep it," he insisted, when she made to protest. "I've got plenty more of them. Besides, I want you to remember me. Like I'll remember you."

Clara made a great effort not to break down. "Damn, I wished I'd given you my teddy bear slipper then. Or my bead bracelet. Or something."

He chuckled. "Goodbye, Clara."

"Goodbye, Peter."

Melina, with a wave of her wand and a muttering of a spell, created a swirling vortex.

She reached out her hand toward Clara. "Shall we?"

Without further ado, Clara let the Sugar Plum Fairy transport her home. One last glance showed her a watery pair of green eyes yet a pleasant, unforced grin to go with them.

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><p><strong>AN: Still not the end here, everybody. It's three chapters and an epilogue left to go. Until next time, later, and I hope you review.**


	17. Just a Dream

**A/N: This is inevitably where I say this part of the story was inspired by a song. The song: "Ordinary Day" by Vanessa Carlton. And I swear that might have been what incited me wanting to write the story in the first place. I don't remember. But, usually, songs will do that to me. However, I wasn't going to quote entire lyrics as chapter titles. So, this and chapter 19 are related through that one song. But, whatever, here you guys go.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: Just a Dream<strong>

Clara drifted along, as though falling up the rabbit hole. The Alice in Wonderland complex was back in full swing. A certain weightlessness took over her, making her spin around. Her brown hair flew out around her as she tightened her hold on Peter's vest. Her other hand gripped Melina's so tightly that it turned a pinkish color. A beam of light glowed far off, yet they got closer to it all the time.

"Ready to let go, Clara?" Melina asked, peering at her through flowing golden tresses, her violet eyes calm and unwavering.

"Yeah. Bye, Melina."

"Farewell, Clara. You've been a very brave girl."

Their hands unclasped, and Clara fell in a sort of dead faint before reaching the blinding light.

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><p>When some sunlight crept in, she woke up, blinking back the last remnants of sleep and optimistically half-hoping that she was still in Marzipania. Still in the guestroom of the palace meaning still near Peter. However, she received a strong dose of reality when she recognized the lavender curtains hanging by her bedroom window. With a glance down the bed, she could identify the retro flower design (a throwback to the late 60's and hippies) comforter she'd nestled under.<p>

No...No, this was a dream she visualized back at the palace.

Much to her disappointment, her current alertness as to her surroundings and the bedroom itself was one hundred percent real. Unnerved, Clara directed her stare to the shelf with the model horses and...

The nutcracker continued his sentry over those horses (roan, black, palomino, white, and in the case of the sole unicorn, a shimmering silver-pink color) as though he hadn't moved an inch. A pang struck her heart, brutal and harsh.

All of it had been a dream. All of it. What she shared with Peter must have been...fabricated, a reflection of her girlish, teenage fantasies. Shudders passed through her body. How could she possibly be back to normal? How would it ever happen?

And the vest. Had that been fake, too? If it hadn't been entirely invented by her imagination, then she most likely lost it. Or had she? She had to find out, so she dug under the comforter to see if it had ended up on her bed. Not there, though maybe it was under the pillow...?

Yes! After some rummaging under that pillow, she took out a velvet black vest with the silver twisting vines emblazoned on it. Clara could hardly believe that this article of clothing was in her arms.

"It was real," she murmured reverently to herself. "It had to be."

Pressing her nose against the fabric, she could detect the scent of that peppermint-and-cocoa cologne, distinctly Peter. It was like he was right in the room with her.

With a more light-hearted smile on her face, Clara promptly exited her room, more than ready to open presents with her family. Though Peter did remain in his world, just as he should, she didn't feel all that sad. For now. After all, it was Christmas and if she couldn't be happy, how could it be enjoyable? Besides, Peter had taught her that a little more optimism never hurt. Maybe she should have figured that out sooner. She also needed to know if she had some explaining to do regarding the mess that the living room battle caused. There could be many crumbs everywhere.

That didn't even take into account some of the furniture ending up askew. What she prayed for was for all that disorganization had been fixed somehow. Magic from Marzipania might have done some work on her house.

As soon as she came downstairs, she heard Fred say, "About time you got here. I thought you'd never get up."

Oh, Fred, as patient as ever. At least it sounded like he was joking around rather than sincerely whining. Despite his attempt to sound like an obnoxious little brat, Clara strode over to the tree. The area surrounding the artificial tree was clean, spotless. It was as though Mozzarella and his rats had never shown up.

She saw Mom, Dad, and her brother sitting near the well wrapped gifts under the tree. Idly, she wondered how long she'd slept and what time it was. A glance at the always tacky, never fashionable owl clock told her that it was around 8:30, rather late to get up on Christmas morning, especially for her. Other years, she'd been up as early as 4:30 AM, when the other members of her family would be rubbing sleep from their eyes.

Mom, more relaxed and not so much OCD for a change, passed over a gift to her. "It's unusual that you slept in longer. Did you sleep heavy?"

"I don't know." Clara pretended not to have a clue as she tore at the Christmas light wrapping paper. "I had a really good dream."

"What did Santa bring you, Clare-Bear?" Dad asked jokingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."

Fred chimed in, "Yeah, Dad, Santa's not real."

"Oh yeah? Then, how come so many of the gingerbread cookies went missing? And that glass of milk we left out for him?"

Oh great. So the living room was all orderly, but there were _still_ missing gingerbread cookies? Sometimes, Clara's life wasn't fair. Then again, Dad said "many" not "all." That left her with some glimmer of hope that she would get to eat a few, after all. She then glanced down at her present and saw it was an Alanis Morrissette CD. Very nice. It said "Santa" on the sticker attached in Dad's handwriting.

She replied to her dad's rhetorical questions, "Because you had a huge appetite last night, Dad. Thanks for the CD by the way."

"No problem. I figured that was the type of music you listened to."

So, even though they were busy with their jobs, her parents actually had a clue about her likes and dislikes still.

"How about you open one I gave you?" Mom suggested.

OK, maybe she should correct herself. Dad wasn't clueless but Mom might be. All right, this couldn't be too thrilling. Was it socks? A lame cardigan that she'd only wear once? Or, oh no, what if it was a repeat of last night's woven monstrosity of a sweater? However, when she took off the lid of the box, she discovered a turquoise long-sleeved shirt. It was loose, a bit flowing, but was quite stylish. Her heart skipped a beat upon recalling that satin dress she'd danced in. At the time, she had felt like she was almost a princess, especially with Peter placing himself close to her.

No, there was no way she would forget him, even if that adventure had been a dream.

"I know kids your age prefer to pick out your own stuff, but I really thought you'd like that shirt. Was I right?" Mom asked her.

Clara smiled widely, her face flushing at the significance of the color to her. "Yeah...Yeah, I really like this. Thanks, Mom."

Crawling under the tree again, she dragged out her present for Fred that she'd bought a week ago. If he didn't like it...Oh well, he could it refunded at any rate. It would just be annoying if he hated it.

Fred whooped, "Yeah, _Black Ops_! I don't have that one. You rock, Clara."

"I know I do. Just don't hug me, or we're gonna have problems. And you're _really_ lucky that I had quite a bit of birthday money left over."

"Clara." Mom pursed her lips slightly. "Are you sure that—?"

"I will say that Fred is the sweetest, nicest brother in the world, and he'd never go crazy because of that game. Right, little bro?"

Fred nodded staunchly. "Right."

His elder sister then winked at him, proving that this would be a confidential, inside thing between the two siblings. Mom would stay out of it.

In fact, she mouthed, "You owe me," to him before passing out a present that Mom bought for Dad. And so, the receiving continued until all the bows and wrapping paper were scattered about the floor. Hm, rather than furniture and cookie crumbs.

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><p>This marked one of the best Christmases of Clara's life so far, in her opinion. She assumed that the reason was partially because of her adventures in Marzipania, but they taught her some things. One of the most vital ones had to be appreciating her family more. In his nutcracker form, Peter had been getting battle-worn while having to go two years without his parents. He hadn't even tried contacting Lewis. So, he'd wisely passed on his experiences to her, telling her to never take her family for granted.<p>

Of course, like all things Peter, she'd taken his advice to heart. That was what made her Christmas so worthwhile.

In the afternoon, Mom resolved that more family time was in order, so they all sat down to watch _The Santa Clause_. It was that good, solid family movie that Clara had grown up with. She had quite an advantage now in understanding some of the jokes that used to go over her head.

As she went to the kitchen to pop herself a bag of microwave popcorn, she appreciated what she currently shared with her family. Though it was something as simple as coming together in one room and watching a movie, it was a considerable improvement.

Maybe this was because it was a holiday, but it could lead to more moments like this. Just as long as she didn't feel suffocated by then, it would be fine by her.

When she came back with her popcorn, her mom mentioned, "You missed the part when he's at the doctor's."

Clara sighed, "Shoot. That was kinda funny."

"It was," Fred said almost braggingly.

She, the ever loving sister, threw some of her popcorn at him.

"Clara, was that necessary?" Dad asked, slightly vexed.

"Yes," she bluntly replied, and she saw her father hide a smile.

Still, no matter how promising this day spent with her family seemed, she sat up in her room alone that night. Like with all young teenage girls, her room served as her refuge, a place for her thoughts and reflections.

Despite the joy this holiday often brought to so many people, Clara couldn't help but feel her own happiness was hollow in comparison. It would never be an easy thing to forget Peter, who had stayed in the back of her mind the whole day. Ripping apart wrapping paper, she'd found that turquoise shirt. Out of all colors, why that one? Painfully ironic. When she'd eaten a mere turkey sandwich, she'd thought of the snacks served at the ballet.

Even watching the movie had triggered a memory, which was that it centered around a man caught between a magical world and the real one. Overall, the exact situation she had dug herself in, too. And honestly, even with her loved ones near, she missed Marzipania desperately.

Ha, irrational, without a doubt. Obviously, Clara had been acquainted with her family for a very long time. With Peter, Satina, and the others, it had been around three to four Marzipanian days. So, why was she belly-aching over a fantasy land that she had been better off not discovering? But, then, that would have meant no Peter.

"Ohhh, no way." She covered her face with her hands and uttered this with a muffled groan. "No, no, no..."

Inevitably, she just realized, Peter meant a lot to her. She'd known enough of him and what he was really like as a person, what was rooted deep in his soul. Nothing but kindness and generosity and caring...Not to mention he was _so_ beautiful.

"Leave it to me to fall for a guy not of this earth," Clara murmured in a bittersweet tone, gazing out her window at the glinting stars above. As far away as he was.

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><p><strong>AN: And there you go. Next chapter, I'm switching POVs, so that ought to be interesting. I'm going to update daily now, because, honestly, there's not much left. And I'm in the process of typing up the epilogue. So, yeah, guys, this story's finally coming to an end.**


	18. Musings

**A/N: OK, I know I said "daily", but then I saw how little I had left to put up. So, I'll be updating today, Friday, and Saturday. Hopefully, that sounds good for everbody. And that decision is final. OK, so here's the POV chapter I talked about.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 18: Musings<strong>

Later that night, Peter decided that he could, for the most part, forget about going to sleep. He wouldn't. In fact, he hadn't bothered dressing down for it. His mind would be absorbed in this one depressing subject all night anyway, so he wouldn't even try doing something as complex as sleeping.

Instead (and this was a supposedly better alternative), he wandered aimlessly on the ground floor of the palace. He let his feet guide him without putting too much thought into it. Although, now that he thought about it, it wouldn't hurt to have a late-night snack.

Peter made a beeline for the kitchens, curious if there was a bit of spare cheese or some bread that he could nibble on. So concentrated was he that he walked straight into Lewis' chest.

He cursed under his breath before apologizing, "Sorry, Lew. Didn't see you there."

Lewis screwed up his eyes in suspicion. "Say, isn't it late for you to be up?"

"Don't remind me. Is there anything in the kitchens?" Peter asked, somehow more than eager to get going and avoid whatever subject his friend wanted to probe.

"Not much, and don't change the subject. Something's up with you. It's Cla—"

"Clams! Eh, not my favorite, but I won't mind. As long as I have food in my stomach." The prince's ensuing grin was so forced that even the mostly oblivious Keeper of the Cocoa would see right through him.

Lewis clicked his tongue half-concernedly, half-irritatingly. "We've known each other for a long time, Pete. Even if you don't want to talk to your parents, you can definitely talk to me. No hiding."

Peter's fragile grin disappeared entirely. "You're right. It's Clara. She...She did something to me. I actually cared what she thought about me. She was sort of my best friend, I guess, even though I didn't know her long. She was funny, cute, and..."

To bring him back to reality, Lewis snorted and scoffed, "You're talking about her like she's dead or something."

Peter only sighed in response, gazing out one of the corridor windows, caught up in how pensive he was. He missed her, more than he should have, in his opinion. He had to be a responsible king one day, whereas Clara would live out her normal Earth life. What he wished for her, though, was that her life wouldn't be so drab to the point that she would lose her fire. For, the last thing that spirited girl should be was cynical.

"Won't she be, though?" Somewhere out of his bleak thoughts, he voiced this. "I'll probably never see her again. It's not just miles, Lewis. 'Cause you can see Satina no problem at any time. With Clara, she's on Earth. How's that supposed to work?"

Lewis smiled at his friend wryly, knowing that everything Peter said was valid. "I can't argue with that. I really can't. All I can say is if it's meant to be, it'll happen. I just don't want you thinking negatively, man. You've beaten your curse and Mozzarella. That's awesome. Besides, you had plenty of good times with Clara. Think of those."

"Yeah...Yeah, I will." Peter very vaguely brightened. "Thanks for cheering me up, even if it was a little."

"It's my job." His loyal friend grinned. "Try getting some sleep. I don't want you getting insomnia for real."

As much as Peter wanted to follow Lewis' wise advice, he remained wide awake, only he headed to the balcony instead of the kitchens. He needed some time alone.

As he looked up at the stars for guidance, he smiled as he remembered when he'd taken Clara out here. It was his favorite spot in the whole palace, so leading her out there had been quite significant. She'd seemed to love it as much as he did.

And those fireworks bursting in the sky, spraying their colors everywhere had made the moment unforgettable. Take a snapshot and keep it in his pocket. If he could do that, that was.

In a word, Clara was perfect. She'd been perfect ever since she had retrieved him from her uncle and spoken to him as though he'd been a real person. It had had more of a profound affect on him than she had realized. Fighting off those rats until he'd been transported, he'd been lonely. Though he had soldiers, they had been mere subordinates. They never were people he could joke with or confide in. With Clara, it had been so easy, bringing that captivating smile on her face.

And the times he'd been intimate with her, Peter had longed to hold her forever and never let her go. That was how much he cared about her. She was everything, after all, everything he could possibly want in a girl. He'd felt it was his duty to protect her, to keep her safe from those battles. So, the sacrificing part had been simple too, done impulsively without a second thought. When it came to that, Clara was always worth it. Always and forever worth it.

"Missing" seemed too light a word when it came to this deep yearning for her, this hollow space that had formed when she'd left this morning. Apparently, according to what Satina had informed him, Clara's spitfire temper had arisen. Quite boldly, she had shouted at Melina, fighting to stay. Satina had said that, in her own personal opinion, Clara had done that because of him.

Upon hearing that part, Peter had sensed overwhelming regret that he hadn't really, properly told her of his feelings for her. Maybe she knew. He hoped she knew, because that was all he had to rely on that something real had been there...was there. The stars were his only companions tonight.

Peter sat on the railing, recalling all he'd been through and everything he had shared with Clara. There had to be some way of seeing her again. He could not and would not allow this bond to dissolve.

"Still awake, Peter? It's half-past midnight," an incredulous, low female voice remarked.

Turning his head around to meet Melina's searching violet eyes, he shrugged. "Yeah, well, couldn't sleep. Or, actually, I haven't bothered to."

She barely made a sound with her small feet as she walked on the balcony toward where he gingerly perched. "You haven't? Why not?"

At that moment, Peter understood why Clara had been so upset with her. It seemed as though the fairy could press all the right buttons. With her quiet wisdom, she could infuriate people as much as she could inspire.

In an almost cold tone of voice, he replied shortly, "I would think you'd know why, Melina."

"Ah, Clara," she concluded before letting out a sigh. "Clara couldn't stay forever. You would have had to let her go eventually."

"But, I don't want to," he admitted softly, his lips barely moving as he said those words. The reason why he'd acted so calm when Clara had dropped the news on him was so that she wouldn't see what he'd really felt. Inevitably, he had torn himself up over her departure.

As he let his eyes drift down toward the courtyard, he wished that he had had more time spent with her. He adjusted his vest on his shoulders, making a point not to look at Melina. He couldn't. It would bring it all home to him again.

"It isn't as though I don't have any emotions, Peter," Melina told him kindly. "I do. I can see how strong your feelings for each other are. But, this is what I didn't tell Clara. If she'd stayed for prolonged period here, she would have slipped into a coma in her world. And died...Do you see why I sent her back now?"

Physically shuddering at the image of a lifeless Clara, Peter stepped down from the railing, which he kept a hand on to steady himself. "Yeah. Definitely. Maybe Clara figured that out, too. She's smart like that. I'd never do that to her."

"This is beyond caring about her, isn't it, Peter?" Melina solemnly inquired, trying to get that confession out of him. Only through that, he could heal.

"I..." He exhaled a breath he had held for a while. "I think I'm in love with her."

Melina nodded from hearing the proof of what she knew was obvious between the two teenagers. In all her years of life, witnessing the manifestations of love and romance, this was one of the stronger bonds she'd seen. Anyone could see just how compatible Peter and Clara were.

More subdued, he currently looked shy, cheeks turning red, when asking his next question. "Is that possible?"

Her subtle smile widened. "I believe so. Even though you haven't had much experience with girls, I can say that Clara is your equal. You both share similar senses of humor. And you both have pure hearts."

Well, if Melina the wise one could make these conclusions, then it was possible. Too bad he hadn't directly told Clara, him being such a coward.

A small smile flitted onto Peter's lips, a genuine one at that. "Yeah, I guess she's my equal. We would butt heads sometimes, but we would always make up."

He remembered what Clara had said about how much she hated arguing with him, that it made her feel guilty. But, what was a romantic relationship without a go in the ring once in a while, without that fiery passion? There was something to be said also with how well they would forgive each other. He could never stay angry with her, and she couldn't with him. However, there was nothing to say to her when she was too far away for contact.

She might not be able to be in his world, but what about if he moved to hers?

An idea struck him, an idea so crazy that there was no way it would come to fruition. But, considering this was for Clara, he had to try.

"Melina, I want to move to Earth. And my parents would have to come too, because they'll want to anyway. Could that happen? Does it matter if I...if I pick someone not of royal blood to rule instead?"

Admittedly a little surprised at what Peter was suggesting, Melina remained silent to consider this. In Marzipania's rich history, something of the sort had happened only one other time. King Ernest, two centuries ago, had abdicated the throne, found a suitable replacement in his brother, and transported to Earth for rich opportunities.

"There is, if you can recall, a certain amendment in the Marzipania Constitution that says a ruler can abdicate as long as he or she can find someone whom he or she deems worthy," she mentioned after a few minutes' musing. "Regardless of their blood."

Peter laughed embarrassedly. "I would snore through history lessons."

A wry smile twitched at her lips. "Your rebellious streak?"

"That and real boredom."

"As I was saying, yes, it can be done. Along with you all going to Earth. It will take an extensive amount of magic (and I would recommend taking as many books on Earth life from the library as you can), but it can be done. I will need to gather many fairies for this task."

For the first time since Clara had departed early this morning, Peter felt an inkling of hope. Then, he remembered Lewis along with potential homesickness.

"And could I come back to visit? Clara too?"

Melina gave her answer accordingly. "With you both, despite what I told Clara...yes."

A few hours later, Peter was in bed, sleeping soundly. This plan would work out, after all.

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><p><strong>AN: Basically, I did the POV chapter so that everyone could see Peter's side of things. And how much he really likes Clara. XD**

**One more chapter and an epilogue to go! Isn't this exciting?**


	19. Just a Boy

**A/N: The reason why I decided to update today and tomorrow was because I noticed that was when you guys visited this story the most. Anyway, last chapter, everybody. Hope you like it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Just a Boy<strong>

On January 2nd, Clara woke up to the inevitability of having to go back to school. Winter break was finished, much to her reluctance. Now, she knew that she couldn't go back to her dream world, as much as she longed to in order to escape the monotony.

As she ate her blueberry waffles for breakfast, she thought drearily of returning to all that sameness. All the stupid, annoying kids with their gossip and tales of drunken New Year's parties. Those were the types of people who made her feel that listening to them would cost her brain cells.

Granted, not everyone in her high school was like that. Miraculously, some of them had common sense not to be active participants in the party hard lifestyle. Nonetheless, Clara hated to be back at school, especially after her wonderful journey that only she and she alone could reminisce about.

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><p>School that day didn't fail to disappoint her expectations. Dumb jocks yelling greetings at each other when they were only two feet apart. The popular girls constantly running their manicured fingers through their sprayed hair, concerned over physical looks as usual. And some of those smartass stoners that, try as she might, Clara could not possibly like. Not because of their extracurricular activity but because some though not all were simply not nice people. All their lame jokes were on everybody else's expense except their own. Apparently, that was entertainment.<p>

By the time she sat down in her assigned seat in biology, the class after her lunch period, Clara was annoyed with just about everybody. Then again, she had all the rotten attitude she would get on a Monday.

Bri, who happened to share the class with her, took her usual seat next to her and commented, "You don't look too happy today."

"Of course not, Bri," she sighed out. "I'm back in the zoo."

There was another reason behind her irritability, but she wouldn't give it.

As the two girls continued on their left-off conversation regarding their Christmas stories, neither of them paid attention to a certain new student. He passed a slip of paper to Mr. Allen before choosing one of the few empty seats behind Clara. He struggled to suppress a grin. This was fate.

"...Anyway, I'd recovered from not seeing the ballet with you, even if the rest of my break was blah," Clara finished up, not letting on that she'd been on a journey through this fantasy land to kill one bad rat that the exterminator couldn't have killed at all and to free a nutcracker prince of his curse. A worried Bri would lock her up in the loony bin.

Bri nodded and half-smiled. "Same here. Mom had to work, so I was stuck at the house watching chick flicks all day."

"That's sad." Clara jokingly clicked her tongue in mock sympathy.

At that moment, balding Mr. Allen walked toward their row of desks while holding a textbook.

_What's that about?_ Clara thought, quite confused.

A new student must have come in here, but she'd disregarded that. She hadn't talked to Bri in what felt like forever, so everything else had faded into the background.

"What's your number, Peter?" Mr. Allen asked the kid, referring to the textbook.

Her heart involuntarily jumped at the mere vocal mention of that name. No, it couldn't be. Just coincidence. It wouldn't be her Peter, as much as she longed for that. Wait, could it be...?

An eerily familiar, deep male teenage voice promptly replied, "294."

"All right then." He jotted it down before turning to the girls and explaining, "New student, just came here today."

It was then, finally, that Clara decided to chance looking over her shoulder. When she did, her dark eyes met with green. She felt like she could barely breathe.

Short seconds away from saying his name out of bewilderment, she was prevented by Peter putting a finger to his lips. As in be quiet, it would look fishy if she had already known him before today. Right. Well, Clara would have to pretend to start from scratch.

"I'm Clara. What's your name?" she introduced herself as she processed the reality of this situation.

Relaxed as ever, Peter gave her one of his cool, calm, and collected grins. "Peter, Peter Winden. Just moved here a week ago."

"From where?" Curious Bri had to cut in.

Hm, time for a change of tactic, Clara concluded when she noticed him faltering, probably because he hadn't had too many glances at a state map or an atlas.

She slapped her forehead in "sudden" recollection. "Oh, duh! How can I forget you, Peter? You used to live down the street from me before you had to move. I was five, and I was so sad to see you go."

"Oh, me too." Peter fortunately caught on and played along splendidly. "But, my dad was in the military so..."

"And you sent me a postcard from Greece! God, I'm forgetful!"

Bri, quite bemused, looked from her best friend to the new student and back again. "Apparently, Clare. How could you forget a Greek postcard?"

"I was five or six." Clara shrugged, sending a wink Peter's way. "I was going to have a short attention span anyway."

Bri appeared appeased with this answer and told him, "Well, any friend of Clare's is a friend of mine. I'm Brianne, Bri for short. Cool to meet you, Peter."

"Likewise." He grinned.

Her best friend proceeded to mouth, "He's hot."

"I know," Clara mouthed in response, proud to know someone as good-looking and, more importantly, awesome as Peter.

Unfortunately, with him sitting so close behind, she could barely focus on the notes she was supposed to be taking. Throughout the entire lesson, she sensed she was off daydreaming again. She couldn't help it; school did that to her. Especially with its most recent addition attending.

After the bell rang and she went to her locker, Peter followed her all the way there. She was so glad to see him there, beyond any words. He dressed suitably for her world too by wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a simple gray T-shirt. When she saw him right beside her, Clara grinned, longing to hug him yet knowing how weird that would look, him being the new kid and all.

"Where's your locker?" she asked.

He pointed only a few lockers down from where she was, which excited her further.

"It'll take some adjusting, but we'll get used to it," Peter explained, referring to his family. "That's why I'm a junior. Mom and Dad didn't want me to go here, only for me to graduate in five months. I'll explain more later. Any place we can go?"

Clara carefully considered before answering, "Dairy Queen ought to be good. I got a craving for ice cream anyway."

Chuckling, he mentioned, "That was a great story you made up earlier. I'd barely looked at any atlases, so you saved me with that."

"You owe me again," she remarked triumphantly, grinning.

"Guess I do." Peter smiled so warmly that she wished she could kiss him again, no matter who saw. "I'll meet up with you at your locker after school."

"OK."

The rest of the day crept along at a snail's pace.

However, Clara cheered up considerably as soon as that final bell rang, and it took all her pride not to start running like a little kid toward Peter. He stood by her locker loyally, still holding his books.

"Hey, Clara, who's that?" Mark Bell, an obnoxious idiot in her grade, asked. "Is he your new stalker?"

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes heavenward. "I knew him a long time ago."

Well, morons like Mark would never understand anyway. That at least some guys kept their promises. Chivalry was still kicking. Briefly checking her pockets for any leftover money from lunch (five dollars, nice), she proceeded to show Peter the way to Dairy Queen, one of the very few fast food restaurants in her small town.

She ordered an Oreo Blizzard for herself, though he opted not to have any ice cream and sat down at a nearby table. After getting her order, she followed suit, placing her tote bag on the floor.

Clara had many questions, though decided to get basic first. "K, um, first of all, how'd you guys even get here?"

"It was my idea. I didn't want to have my parents worry about being separated from me again. So, I suggested it to Melina, and she was OK about it. In fact, my great-great-great-great grandpa or something like that had done it before."

"Wow," she responded with, taking a spoonful of Blizzard and eating it. "She actually let someone do something for a change."

Peter smiled wryly as he tapped his fingers on the table. "She's not that bad, you know. Besides, I could abdicate along with my parents. I wasn't sure if I should, considering I'd just gotten my people's respect back. But, they understood. They're pretty happy now that Caramelin's king."

Clara abruptly stopped eating. "Caramelin is king now?"

"Yep. We would have picked Melina, if she wasn't so adamant about not being a royal ruler. So, Caramelin was our best bet. He'll do a great job."

Caramelin was also a family man. If he saw the rest of his kingdom as part of his family, he would be a fair and just ruler. Not to mention that since he used to be a general, he could protect Marzipania from any further danger.

"Great for him. So, I take it Melina just sent you guys here?" Clara really was inquisitive regarding how he was actually here and not part of her dream vision.

"Mmm..." Peter acted like he wasn't quite sure how to phrase his answer. "Not exactly. I mean, a lot of fairies and Melina had to make a house appear out of nowhere and add stuff inside. Oh, and convert our copper, silver, and gold coins into dollars and American coins. Pretty complex stuff. She's really skilled."

Melina must have been if that much had taken place when she'd helped the ex-royals move in to their brand-new home. It was weird how much trouble Peter had resolved to take just to plan on staying on Earth.

"But...Will you ever come back?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah. You can, too. I think Melina just meant you couldn't stay in Marzipania very long. It doesn't mean you can't visit."

Clara groaned, "Well, if she'd told me that in the first place...But, I'm happy that I can visit, though."

"And we got books about Earth life so we'll manage," Peter added in as a sort of afterthought.

They went silent for a few minutes while Clara focused on finishing off her Blizzard. When she stared back toward him, she could see those glowing green eyes gazing intently back at her. Attentively watching her, he still tapped his fingers, though more nervously. A contemplative smile appeared on her lips.

_It's great to have him back again,_ she thought.

Yet, at the same time, she wondered why Peter would make this big a sacrifice to be in the same place as she was.

"Clara," he said, his voice cutting into her musing. "You finished with that ice cream?"

When she responded in the affirmative, he suggested, "Let's get out of here," and they went out the way they'd come in. Instead of following her out to her bike, though, he headed toward the alley between Dairy Queen and a music store.

Puzzled, Clara stood frozen by her bike. "Peter?"

"Over here." He motioned for her to come, too.

Further baffled (because what did he possibly have to do in an alley?), she stepped toward this secluded area. Maybe he had a deep, dark secret that he couldn't share back at the restaurant. She saw him just standing there, his eyes on her. What was going to happen now?

Very gradually, Clara approached him, yet he managed to do so first within two long strides. Without so much as a warning, Peter cupped her face in his warm hands and kissed her passionately. Out of all the times they'd kissed, he had never been the one to go first, always the receiver and she the giver. This wonderful instance, he gave so much. And he never held back.

His hands then went through her hair before going down her back and finally coming to rest on her waist. All the while with his body pressed against hers. Oh, she couldn't believe this was happening now, Peter back and kissing her so perfectly.

When their lips parted, he breathed out raggedly, "I missed you."

Caught up in this beautiful moment, Clara, as sensitive as she was deep down, almost cried. "I missed you, too."

Peter smiled at her tenderly, touching her face briefly with his hand. "Really? I thought you'd written it off as a dream when you got back."

"No! I mean, I wouldn't..." Her face began turning red. "I still have your vest."

He gave her another peck on the lips. "You kept it."

"I would never have gotten rid of it or anything," Clara told him.

"I know," he murmured, running a hand through her hair yet again.

She loved being this close to him. With most other guys, like the ones at her school, it would have felt claustrophobic. With Peter, she felt absolutely at ease, even in this little alley.

"So, is this why you came to Earth? Because of me?" Clara inquired in a modest tone, skeptical that one boy would do this all for her.

"Yes." He grinned. "I'm nuts about you. I can't lie. But, you really were worth following. And you should have seen me later that night, after you'd left that morning."

"You got insomnia," she guessed.

Peter held back his head and laughed. "Exactly. You're good at this game. But, yeah, I couldn't sleep again."

Clara firmly placed her hands on her hips. "I thought I'd told you not to lose sleep over me."

"Can't help it, Clara. You've been on my mind quite a bit."

She believed him whole-heartedly when he admitted that. If they'd reversed roles, she realized that she would have had her share of sleepless nights, too.

"But," Peter tacked on, "once I'd figured out what I was going to do about you, I slept fine."

Clara beamed. "Good. And, um...you know, you've been on my mind a lot, too."

This apparently made him satisfied to the point that he gave her a hug that filled her heart with joy. "I'm not going anywhere now, not any time soon anyway. You can count on that."

And she would. After all, she could trust him without a second thought. Reluctantly, she told him goodbye before getting on her bike and pedaling off. As of tomorrow, though (something that made her smile), she would have a new boyfriend to hang out with at school. And Mark Bell and many others would ask away about it.

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><p><strong>AN: Admittedly, I did "borrow" that kissing and confession of missing each other from SyFy's "Alice" miniseries. But, that was because I thought it was a really good scene. Anyway, the epilogue will be up tomorrow, so this story is coming to an end, guys. It's been almost a month since I started putting this up. I write and type pretty fast, though.**


	20. Epilogue

**A/N: OK, so at first, the epilogue was going to be completely different. It was going to take place back in the real world. But, considering there weren't all that many "real world" chapters, I'd decided on a different ending.**

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><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

Clara Sherman visited Marzipania a few months after that unexpectedly eventful Christmas Eve. She went with Peter to catch up on things with the people whom she'd become acquainted with. At the cookie house village (which was called Cookieville, apparently), they knocked on Satina's door to talk to her. As luck would have it, the huntress was the one to answer the door. Instead of her ballerina outfit, she wore blue pants, a black shirt, and what looked like combat boots. Satina grinned when she saw them.

"I was wondering when I would see you guys again," she remarked pleasantly.

"Well, I wouldn't have wanted to bail completely on you," Clara pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Me neither," Peter chimed in.

Over the past four months, things had gotten brighter in Cookieville, according to what Satina proceeded to relate to them. Since the trading days had been re-implemented, there was plenty of money to go around. As for her personal life, she divulged that she had gone on a couple of dates with Lewis. She was still unsure whether or not she wished to pursue a relationship with him (to Clara's and Peter's collective moaning), yet she was getting more interested.

As for the ballerina outfit, Satina kept it in her bedroom closet upstairs and would do ballet moves out in a particular clearing on the weekends. There was something soothing about this type of dance to her. Honestly, she was inevitably starting to enjoy it and consider it "fun."

"Now, come out over by the square." She could hardly suppress the grin that danced on her lips as she practically sprinted out the door. Clara and Peter were forced to catch up. When they did get around to that area, they discovered their old friend Hercules being kept in a large pen while little kids fed him sweets. He was even holding a couple of them on his lap.

"Awww," Clara cooed at this endearing sight, suddenly regretting not bringing a chocolate bar along. So, now, they both knew the fate of the delightfully mild peppermint yeti.

"You'll find he's not dangling them by their feet," Satina pointed out, directing this comment more toward Peter, who chuckled.

"Well, I was different back then," he admitted.

"Oddly enough, though, he loves to play with toy nutcrackers."

"Figures." He proceeded to hop over the small fence and so did Clara.

Hercules came up to hug Clara, whom he recognized right away. But, as for the mysterious boy with the dark hair that fell nearly to his shoulders, he was positively baffled.

"Yeah, Herc, I look a little different now. I'm not a toy any more."

Nonetheless, with gleaming eyes, the yeti cried out, "Twoy!"

"Guess it doesn't matter, huh?" Peter shrugged, much to Clara's amusement, before getting crushed against Hercules' body. "Yep, meeee. Hi...ow!"

"Some things never change," Clara told Satina, since the incident back in the Candy-Coated Caverns was sort of an inside joke.

With that visit paid to Hercules, they said their goodbyes to Satina before taking a shortcut that led to the Graham cracker boat docks. Clara and Peter dropped in at Marzipania Palace to see how things went with King Darren, formerly General Caramelin.

However, the man himself had stayed the same. He was still a humble man who chiefly valued his family above virtually everything else. Upon hearing Clara talking to the king in the cavernous, echoing throne room, Hestinia ran down the steps and came in to embrace her. Since King Darren was one of few words, their conversation soon ended, and Peter managed to lead Clara to Lewis, who was beyond thrilled to see them.

The two boys were talking each other's ears off, so excited were they to see each other again. So excited, in fact, Peter insisted that he and Clara would stay at the palace overnight. She agreed to it as long as she didn't get in too much trouble with her parents.

For, they had gotten to Marzipania through a special door that Melina had left behind, just in case either of them wanted to visit. Through that door was a glittery pink wall that led directly to Marzipania. Clara had jokingly compared it to the wardrobe that led to Narnia. The door was at Peter's house, so that was why she was concerned over getting scolded.

But, how could she have thought of missing out on, not the first, but _second _palace dinner that she'd ever had? And it was just as delectable as the first one had been. Who knew lamb could taste so good?

"Now, I'm eating Mary's little lamb. I feel so bad," she joked and Peter, who sat faithfully next to her, laughed. Their relationship was now going on three months, and Clara had never tired of his laughter once. She thought it was sweet yet sexy.

"Don't sweat it, Clare," Lewis spoke up, slicing into his chicken. "Satina kills Bambi, whoever that is."

And her Earth references were making an impact here. She took pride in that.

"Speaking of which," Peter said, "can you finally explain to me what or who Bambi is?"

It took a few more minutes of their eating for her to fully detail the story of Bambi and his mother and how the mother consequently died.

Lewis clicked his tongue. "Idiot shouldn't have shot a doe."

"Agreed." Peter nodded enthusiastically.

"And that's why I've never gone hunting," Clara summed up.

Later that evening, after such quirky conversations, she spent time with Peter.

The two teenagers both lay sprawled out on the grass of the courtyard where, not so long ago, they'd killed a total fraud of a Mouse King. However, as they'd discovered today through talking to Satina and the king, things were rather peaceful as they had been two years ago. Restored to their rightful state. And at the moment, Peter and Clara stared up at the entrancing midnight blue sky flecked with stars.

"So, I'd say Marzipania is pretty well off," Clara cheerfully concluded.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, it's in good hands. Caramelin's been a great ruler so far."

"Do you miss it here?" She switched positions on the grass, from her back to the side facing him.

"Sometimes," he murmured softly. "But, I'm not too upset about living on Earth."

That smile, the one he wore when feeling particularly deep and reflective, came across his face. With the moonlight on it as well, Clara thought he looked beautiful.

On a wild impulse, she inched herself closer to him as he seemed to study the moon while still on his back. What was truly courageous was when she moved back a strand of hair from his face.

"I _still _can't believe you moved to Earth for me. I mean, I wouldn't have asked—"

Just when Clara started caressing his face, Peter's hand caught hers, and he adjusted himself so he lay on his side, too.

"I love you," he whispered, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Do you?" she asked, shy, confused, insecure, and, most of all, extremely happy.

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Yeah, Clara, honest."

"I love you, too." She placed her hands on his chest and kissed him.

Clara didn't know where this would end up. And frankly, she didn't want to skip ahead to find out. All she knew was that she couldn't be too bored with Peter close by. With a magical world just a door away. It wasn't a dream dancing in her head but real.

All because of one Christmas and Fred's one enchanted gift.

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><p><strong>AN: There we go! That's the end, everyone. I couldn't resist them telling each other they loved each other. Couldn't resist at all. Thanks to those who did review and more of you who read. I loved working on this story, and to be honest, I do miss working on it. It was a lot of fun.**


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